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starlight-starwrites · 3 months

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forehead kisses

din djarin x reader

summary: after din takes karga's offer of a cabin on nevarro, you find yourself joining the mandalorian and his adopted son on their bounty hunting adventures. or, five times you kiss the helmet and the one time you kiss him. wc: 3k warnings: some description of injuries, and my personal fave, yearning pining aching longing with heavy doses of fluff and smooching, and i revive a fan favorite character (the Razor Crest) note: banner by @janaispunk and fic written for her 1500 kisses celebration! i got the prompt forehead kisses and could not stop thinking of the potential. thank you so much for hosting this little challenge and congratulations jana!!!

The cockpit is quiet when you climb up. Din sits in the pilot’s seat, the only acknowledgment he knows you’re here is a slight turn of his head. You come to stand at his shoulder and gaze out the viewport at the expanse of stars.

“Call go well?”

“New job.”

“That’s fast,” you say. “Didn’t even get him back the last one.”

“Hot priority. Quarry is supposedly in this system.” Din relaxes back into the chair, finally turns to you. “The kid?”

“Asleep,” you answer. “Think he wore himself out with the…” you wave your hand in the mimic of the child’s magic. “He really likes playing with the new droid.”

Din grunts. “At least someone does.”

You laugh. “Be nice! R5 is very well-behaved.”

You hear his sigh through the helmet before he asks, “You don’t mind the detour?”

“No, of course not.” You lean your hip on the side of the chair, and Din’s bracer brushes your leg.

Your time spent traveling around with the Mandalorian and his adopted son has actually been some of the most relaxing bounty hunting you’ve ever done. They’re both more polite than you expected and it feels…domestic, even if the stream of gunfire and criminal cargo never stopped.

Din Djarin has been a surprise as well. What started as professional camaraderie has developed into an unspoken tenderness that puts a smile on your face and—if he ever took off the helmet to show you—maybe on his too.

“I can prep your locker and the carbon freeze. How long to the designated point?” You push off the chair where he sits.

“About an hour.” He looks up at you, reaches to squeeze your hand. “Thank you.”

You bend forward to press a quick kiss to the crown of his helm. “Don’t worry about it.”

You’re still smiling when you make it down to the hull of the Crest.

Nevarro was not the sort of planet you would think of as relaxing, but between Karga’s development of a well-respected port city and Din keeping one of the most quaint cabins you’ve ever visited, it has been the only place you can relax.

You carry a tin plate from the Mandalorian’s kitchen to the next room. Through the window you watch the kid wobble over the rocks to chase after a desperate frog. By now, the little critters know when he’s coming. At the table, Din sits scrolling through a datapad.

“Dinner is served,” you announce.

His visor raises to meet your gaze when you enter. “I could have gotten it.”

“I know.” You incline your head to the pad. “I had a feeling Greef got to you already. More work? We only got back this morning.” You set dinner in front of him, come around his side to look at the file over his shoulder.

“Just a side project,” he says. He closes out of the screen before you can read. “It can wait.”

“Well, well,” you say, raising your hands. “Keep your secrets then.”

He leans back in his chair to face you. “It’s not a secret.” His voice is dry, but he knows you’re teasing. “I wanted to thank you. You…saved my life today.”

“Oh, that?” It’s true. He fell off a building. You actually let him, before you remembered he wasn’t wearing his jetpack. In some odd stroke of luck you’d managed to steal some poor sod’s skyspeeder, catch the free-falling Mandalorian, and total the quarry’s speederbike in one arc with no casualties. “Hm, yes, I was thinking you should be the one serving me dinner.”

“Maybe I will.”

The way he says it catches you off guard. Your heart skips a beat.

“Next time then.” You smile, marvel at the frantic beating in your chest. Then you bump his shoulder with your hip. This time you’re bold enough to place a finger under the edge of his helmet, tilt his head a little more. You place a kiss to where his forehead would be. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you eat in peace.” You nod at the food getting cold, and leave him to do just that.

The hull of the Razor Crest is hard at your back. You sit on the floor, shoulder to shoulder with the Mandalorian.

“You know as much as I love the Crest…maybe it’s time to consider—”

“No.”

You sigh. The ship has landed ‘safely’ you’re glad to say. Grogu sits in Din’s lap. R5 is…a little banged up, but fine. The rest of the Crest? Complete disarray. Anything not tied down has been flung around, and there is a gaping hole across from where the four of you sit.

“She is an old ship.”

“She has seen worse.”

Sadly, you believe it. You lean closer to him, let yourself feel the relief of having made it. He leans into you, and the kid lets out a small sound like he’s disappointed too.

“Think we can find a mechanic for this one?” You raise a hand to gesture at the torn metal and frayed wires that frame the picturesque view of open fields and rock spires beyond them. Of all the places to be attacked, here is pretty nice.

You let your head fall to the side. Din shifts with a sigh, and his temple rests against yours. “We’re going to need more than a mechanic.”

You snort. After the distress of the last hour, it feels nice to sit like this. To relax. If that’s what you can call it.

You want to curl up beside him, long to know what it would be like for him to hold you. Part of you thinks he would, if you asked. But still you say nothing, content with the small doses of affection you give each other now. Closeness that is expected - known - but goes unspoken. You turn your head, and your lips brush over his helmet, just above his visor. His head stays tilted down, allowing it. He sighs when you move away.

“We should get to work.”

“Yeah.”

A tether pulls as you both stand to get things in order. Connection. Longing. You wonder if he feels it too. You brush a hand over your lips, savor the feeling of cool metal.

You don’t like it. Not one bit. But you understand. With every day that passed, you’ve been feeling worse—caught some bug on one of the trips you’ve made in the last week. It started with a cough, and now you can barely speak. You’re tired, and drained, but still you managed to stay on the ship with the Mandalorian. He wasn’t about to let R5 stay alone with the kid, and to be honest, you think he’s gotten used to having the backup. You have to be content he’s letting you do as much as he is.

“If they give you any trouble at the dock just send them this.” He presses something on his vambrace, and you check over codes on your datapad. You nod confirmation. “Keep the engine running. I shouldn’t be long, and if they decide they want a look at our cargo…”

You both turn to face the short line of frozen criminals.

“You’ll have to make a quick getaway.”

The problem you’ve found with working on newly established New Republic territories is the freedoms of the Outer Rim are being slowly taped over in red. Even bounty hunting hasn’t escaped the notice of the bureaucracy. Din hates it. You hate it even more. And now here he is going out alone to find a rich slimeball that likely paid his way into immunity with the New Republic officers here. Stuck sitting in the pilot’s chair was hardly helping. You nod anyway, watching as he straps on more weapons and gear discreetly into his armor. A knife slips into a hidden sheath under his chest plate. You try to be comforted that at least if he doesn’t have you, he’s well equipped.

You clear your throat, hopefully in a way that he understands your upset. You’ve mostly communicated with him about this job in a series of frowns.

He sighs. “I know.”

You huff.

“I know,” he says again.

Your shoulders slump, and you don’t know how else to tell him right now, so you tuck your pad under your arm and reach for him.

He’s slow to it, but he folds his arms around you to return your hug, awkwardly patting your back before holding you closer. You pull away after a moment, and take his helmet between the palms of your hands. You search his visor, wondering if he really does know.

His hands come under your arms to hold your elbows, thumbs rubbing in a comforting manner. You pull him toward you, rest your forehead against his.

Come back safe, you think. Come back to me.

His hands squeeze tighter. He must know. Surely, he must know.

You pull from him, but keep hold of his head and tilt. You press a kiss to where you rested your head just a moment before, willing his safety. Then you let go before you do anything else. Perhaps it’s good you lost your voice. His hands slip from you when you take a step back, though one hovers between your bodies like he’s not sure. You watch it drift down slowly.

Behind you, Grogu coos a goodbye, but you don’t take your eyes from Din. He looks down for a moment then back to you. Another beat, then he nods. You return it. He walks down the ramp of the hull, and you watch him until it closes, sealing you and the kid inside.

You press your fingers to your mouth. Come back safe.

Your hands shake as you pull away fabric and leather. The Mandalorian’s chest plate, marked with carbon scoring, rests on the ground beside him.

“Should have been here,” you whisper. Your voice isn’t better, but you try. You press a bandage to the wound, ignoring the way his blood sticks to your fingers.

“The kid…”

“Safe. On ship.”

Din’s hand clasps around your wrist. “They’ll find—”

You shake your head. You didn’t like it either. Your only comfort was that R5 could pilot the Razor Crest if absolutely necessary. The ship was locked and sealed tight to protect both of them while you found Din.

“I moved ship,” you croak. “They safe for now.”

You can’t see how far the wound reaches—his skin is covered in blood, soaking his clothing over his shoulder and neck. Does it go under his helmet too? Din takes your hand, halting your frantic search. You stop, eyes darting over his visor as though you’ll find answers.

“We have to go.” His voice is strained, but he is right. You can’t stay. Most of your medical supplies are stored on the Crest.

“Din…” his name is barely more than a breath through your lips. You want to say so much. Look at him, barely lucid himself, slumped and abandoned for dead when you arrived. You fear for him, even now that you are here.

“I’m…okay.” He takes his hand from yours and moves to cup your face instead. You can smell the old leather of his gloves, feel the rough patches on your cheek. But his hold is firm, grounding you back to him. “I’m okay. I just need you to help me there.” He breathes heavy, and so do you, but you can see his resolve once more. He’ll make it.

Tears spring at your eyes, and your bloodied hands grasp the sides of his helmet, mirroring how he holds you. You lean in, press a kiss to his forehead. And then another. And another. Then one more for good measure.

He has to know what he does to you. The bandage is pressed to his wound and tucked under the straps of his armor. You’ll have time to properly heal him later. He does his best to help replace his chest plate.

You take his good arm around your shoulders, wrap your arm at his waist. With your help, he stands. The coast is clear for now, and the two of you creep down the streets in the direction you hid the Crest. He follows you without question, each of you pulling the other closer at every turn—so close your shadows become one.

The image follows you all the way back to the ship—haunting you the same as the memory of cold metal against your lips.

The lava flats are quiet this evening. The sun sets behind a smattering of clouds, painting the sky an orange-pink you aren’t accustomed to seeing. The view from the Mandalorian’s front porch is unobstructed.

So here you sit, here you stare. You’re not sure when it happened, but it feels like home.

A steady beat of footsteps interrupts the quiet, and Din walks out of the doorway. He pauses there before crossing your view to join you on the bench. His movements are slow, and he’s not wearing his full armor where he’s covered in bandages. You sit up straight, gaze tearing from the sky to follow him. Your hand settles on his arm as he seats himself beside you.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Better. Much better,” you say, eying where a bandage disappears under his helmet. “What about you? Doc still expects a full recovery?”

Din nods. “The bandages are just to protect his work. I should be able to take it off tomorrow.”

Upon your return to Nevarro, you had rushed Din to the nearest med center to fix the first aid you had attempted. Whatever device was used to cause the explosion he survived was nothing you had seen before. After a good soak in the bacta tank, some careful skin grafting, and a hefty dose of painkillers, Doc assured you the Mandalorian would be just fine.

Grogu had fussed profusely from your lap, but Din had set firm rules on when the kid was allowed to use his powers. If Din was still conscious to tell him no, then no it was.

“Starting to consider Greef’s offer? Retire as a bounty hunter, become marshal here,” you ask him gently. Karga had offered it to him before, and on several occasions. Still, your Mandalorian found himself back among the the stars. Something felt different this time. The way he settled in to his cabin, sought the comforts of home. The way he let the kid play and wander longer. “It doesn’t sound too bad.”

You filled in for the job when you were on world, worked bounties as they came in when Karga needed it. You knew he hoped Din would take the job—both of you knew he would be the best at it. After following him around the galaxy, seeing him in action, there was no way to deny it.

Din looks away from the sunset to face you. “I admit I’ve been finding more reasons to stay.” His hand takes yours. He’s not wearing his gloves. His skin is rough but warm, and you skim your thumb over his knuckles.

You don’t take your eyes from him even as you lace your fingers with his. The light from the setting sun reflects on the metal of his helmet, and it makes him look softer somehow. Perhaps it is the pink glow or, when you look him over again, you realize the only beskar he wears is his helmet.

Time slows. The moment feels frozen, the cooling evening air, the touch of Din’s shoulder to yours, the pull of your gaze to search for his. His hand reaches for the helmet, lifting it gently from his head.

You don’t move. You are not sure if you can. Lips part, breath stolen. He has tousled brown hair that falls on to his forehead, creases between his eyebrows, wide brown eyes that search yours. You follow the curve of his nose to plush lips that part just as yours do.

You feel the tether once again, pulling you in. All the times you stayed close to his side, all the times you found yourself reaching for him, pressing your lips to his helm in what you hoped spoke of the affection you held. It takes hold of you now, and graciously, seems to take hold of him too.

Your lips meet his. Eyes slip shut. The light of the sun is lost to the warmth of his skin, his breath on your cheek. It’s soft and gentle. Not unlike every kiss you’ve given him since you met. He kisses you now, slow and testing. Slanting his mouth against yours, drawing closer when you don’t move away. His hand cups your cheek, your hand rests on his chest.

He tastes like home.

Your need for air is what interrupts you. Mouth pulling from his, the light sound echoing in your chest. But you don’t pull away. Neither does he.

You rest, tucked in by one of his arms. Your shoulder leaned to his side, his forehead dipped to rest on yours. You smile.

When your eyes finally come to focus again, you can see the curve of his smile too. You want to say something, test the waters of this light feeling dancing over your heart. He lifts his chin first, and his lips press to the crown of your head.

It’s warm. You sink into his embrace, let the feeling wash over you. Both of you linger on that bench, painted over by the fading sunset as a memory of quiet comfort and forehead kisses.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fic #din djarin fic #star wars #1500 kisses challenge

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imaginesheaven · 1 year

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Lonely Water (GN!Reader x TF141)

Lonely Water

GN!Reader x TF 141 (platonic)

Summary: You crash into the ocean with a helicopter during a mission. Waiting for your hopefully on time rescue you relive some of your favorite memories of your team. Kind of inspired by the song “Hold Back The River” by James Bay.

Callsign: Phoenix

Length: Around 2.3k words

Warnings: Swearing as always, angst, mentions of injuries, drowning

“Mayday! Eagle 3 is coming down in the middle of the ocean. The pilot is dead and I have no fucking clue how to fly this thing! … Oh, fucking hell…”

There is nothing but darkness around you. The mysterious but dark night sky with thousand shining stars above you and the deadly ocean lurking beneath you. The water is just waiting for you to lose the last of your endurance so you can sink into its cold embrace.

“I’m stronger than you think”, you hiss at the tiny waves of dark ocean water, but you are actually not sure how much longer you will survive. The cold of the sea comes creeping in what feels for hours now. It made itself a home in your bones so deeply freezing that your lips have turned already blue. The feeling in your arms and legs starts to fade just like your will of survival.

The helicopter sunk within minutes after the horrific crash into the water. There was literally nothing left to cling onto. You wouldn’t be Jack clinging for dear life onto a wooden door, while your true love stays safely above the freezing water.

The thought of the Titanic brings a weak smile onto your lips. At least you still got your humor with you to keep you company.

Darkness fills your mind with the sinking dread that your team probably wouldn’t be fast enough to rescue from this death trap. Your form floats on the water like a dead man hoping to delay the bitter end for just another few minutes.

The exhaustion slowly takes over as your eyes flutter shut desperate for a moment of rest. Cold water comes rushing over your face since the ocean was waiting for its chance to drown you in its embrace. The water is merciless. Adrenaline rushes through your vein bringing back your will to fight. You swim with weak strokes back to the surface. How much longer can you keep up against the sea?

“Oi! Not so fast, Phoenix!”, a familiar voice behind you yells out. The dirt beneath your shoes crunches as you jog through a patch of trees. Wait, a minute. The water surrounding you has vanished? This can’t be real, right? It hast to be a memory.

“Too bad you are so slow, Soap. You could easily catch up with me if you would work out a bit more”, you reply to the familiar voice behind you. Soap stares at you speechless for a second before he speeds up to catch you. Laughing you send him a wink and even put more speed on to outrun him more than easily.

Soap grunts with exhaustion ready to bring you down with him. He jumps forward his arms stretched out. This man is an open book for you for years now. Still grinning you make a step to the side completely out of his reach. Soap falls to the ground without you.

Absolutely pumped you start your little victory dance knowing exactly that in the distance Price, Gaz and Ghost are watching the two of you with binoculars. “That was quite a fall Soap took there”, the Captain comments the downfall of the poor Scott, “Pay up, Gaz.” The young soldier lets out a groan but always pays his bet debts.

“Phoenix could outrun us all, Gaz, never think otherwise”, no matter how often Ghost sees you running he is always mesmerized by your endurance.

“How can you be so damn fast?”, Soap can’t believe he lost once again. You give him a half shrug with your shoulder, “I imagine Death chasing me and what do we say to Death?”

“Not today”, you whisper smiling. The thought of your teammates brings you pure joy despite the fact you are probably going to drown. The only family you ever had and ever needed. For a second you close your eyes hoping to see more memories.

“So, your callsign is Phoenix. What’s the story behind it?”, Gaz asks you with a bright smile on his lips. Sometimes he reminds you of a little boy in a candy store. You can’t believe how much happiness his happiness can bring you.

“Well…”, you start your not so exciting story, but Soap interrupts you immediately: “Phoenix survived a car crash with a big explosion and came back out of its ashes like a Phoenix. Tada! The callsign was born!”

The silence in the room is deafening before you burst out with laughter, “What the hell, Soap?! No, that’s not what happened!” Everyone except Gaz gets a good laugh from this story. He looks so terribly confused and kind of intimidated at the same time.

“Poor Gaz is probably traumatized for the rest of his life. I like to burn things and someone else already had the fucking callsign Pyro so I had to improvise”, you explain him the situation with a few words. The young soldier rolls his eyes. Still a tiny smile on his lips can be seen.

“Have you any idea how hard it was to get Phoenix and Soap as both demolition freaks on the team? Explosions. Fires. Laswell was not happy at all”, Price recalls his quite one-sided conversation with her. The only thing she said was “NO!” over and over again. Well, she also said “FUCKING HELL FOR SURE NOT!” once. But Captain Price gets what he wants in the end.

A tiny tear rolls down your face, but you can’t feel anything anymore. The cold crept into every single fiber of your body. In the end it doesn’t matter anyway. You are still surrounded by water so what matters a single tear escaping? It’s the only one. Way too tired you can’t share more than that tiny tear with the ocean.

“Are you fucking serious? You could have died!”, you hiss angrily at Ghost as you patch the bullet wound in his side up. The tough soldier keeps quiet letting you work. “It’s like I’m talking to a brick wall without a single thought behind those eyes. Except for sacrificing himself for someone else”, you keep going with your monologue. No one dares to speak like that to him. Except you. It’s always you.

Ghost can’t see how your hands are shaking. How the fear takes over your already worry-ridden mind. How you blame yourself for not being fast enough in the end. You could have prevented this from happening.

But Simon knows you better than you yourself sometimes, “Not for anyone. Only for you, Phoenix. I’m sorry, but please stop worrying. Stop blaming yourself. In the end it was my decision. That’s what we do for each other. Keeping each other safe, right?”

Not answering you put away the first med kit finally done with patching him up. Ghost isn’t the one with the soft side, but with you it is so easy to feel safe for once. You stand up hoping to run from this conversation. His hand stops you dead in your tracks as he grabs your wrist, “Right?”

A slight smile appears on your lips still not turning around to face him, “Of course… but you are still a brick wall.” Simon can’t help himself but smile too behind his mask.

What have you done? If Simon would be here with you, he would hold this whole conversation against you. It’s the same reason that has brought you into the middle of the ocean. You wanted to keep them safe. Your team. Your family.

The helicopter was loaded with explosive meant to kill. Bombs. Soap’s favorite. There was no time to defuse them. You had not a single second to think about it. Just enough time to act on impulse. What a great idea to bring the helicopter down over the ocean far away to hurt someone else. But what about you?

“No, you are not stronger than me, Gaz”, Soap puts down the money for his bet. There is never a dull moment with those clowns. A tiny smile appears on your lips as you nurse your lonely drink in your hand.

“What’s so funny?”, Price notices your rather happy facial expression. “Nothing, just happy to be alive”, you reply simply. The Captain doesn’t need an explanation what you mean exactly. He just knows. You don’t need to elaborate how they give you a feeling of being home. How they are like the family you never had before in your life. They are everything you need to be happy.

But now it is time to let go.

Tired you keep your eyes closed as the cold water pulls you down into its embrace. You are not scared anymore to give up this time. Only gratefulness and happiness are present in your heart and mind. The joy you experienced is more than enough for a whole lifetime.

For the last time you open your eyes to see the darkness around you. It was the only friend you had the last few hours. The tiny waves trying to lull you into a memories-filled sleep. The cold making it easier to let go. You have been tired for so long already. Tiny air bubbles escape and leave you behind.

The darkness lurks beneath you, but above the water surface shines a strange light. Is that the beacon of hope you were looking for the whole time? There are voices too, but you can’t understand what they are yelling. You are sinking further and further. Far away from the light.

Above the lonely water your team is looking for you desperately.

The thought sends a surge of energy through your body. As hard as you can you wave your arms and legs completely uncoordinated. Still the movement brings you closer to the surface. You can’t give up now. Not so close to them.

Your whole body is numb and hurts at the same time terribly. The ocean gives its best to keep you to itself. The cold clouds your mind. Are you paddling into the right direction? Are you going further down?

Then your arm breaks through the surface. But that’s all you had left in you.

Something grabs your hand so tight you almost screamed out loud because of the pain. Your head is still underwater. There is another tightness in your lungs screaming for just a tiny bit of fresh air.

Slowly you get dragged out of the darkness. Leaving the ocean behind. You take a gasping breath. The world outside the water is so overwhelming. The lights blind you for a moment. The loud noises roar in your ears. Pure chaos. For a moment you miss the calming darkness of the ocean.

A slight smile would appear on your lips as you see the faces of your teammates, but that’s too much for now. Gaz and Soap have their hands tightly on your arms, while Price and Ghost try to heave you into the helicopter by your tactical vest. All your gear got extremely heavy soaked with ocean water to the brim. You wish you could help them out, but you reached your limit of energy a long time ago. They lower you to the ground finally freed of the water.

“We got Phoenix. Go, Nik”, Price gives his order to Nicolai. Your favorite Russian pilot. Ghost and Soap try to get rid of your tactical vest together. Gaz stands ready with a blanket to warm you up. They keep talking to you, but you can’t quite follow their words. Your mind still frozen in place.

“Hey, hey. You broken?”, John puts his hand on your ice-cold cheek to get your attention. This time you can manage a weak smile, “Define broken, Captain.” He lets out a deep sigh full of worry but more than happy to hear your voice once again.

“Don’t ever do this again, muppet. You were out there the whole night. We- … We literally thought you were gone. Want to sit up?”, Price grabs your shoulder softly too scared to hurt you after what you went through. Ghost on the other side helps you too to sit up.

The sun starts to rise on the horizon bringing another day to this earth. Another day you are able to see. Another day to be alive.

“You damn lucky bastard. The endurance from your jogging probably saved your ass out there”, Simon can’t believe he gets another chance to see you again. It breaks his heart to see you beaten up and weak like this, but you are alive.

“What do we say to Death?”, Soap asks you grinning like always. “Not today”, you reply enjoying the little inside joke the two of you have.

Price puts his leg behind your back so you can relax yourself against him. Ghost rests his hand on your shoulder letting himself feel grateful to have you back. Soap sits next to you. Shoulder against shoulder. Just like out in the battlefield. Gaz holds one of your hands in his to get them back to normal temperature.

Your little family.

Lonely Water

Let us hold each other

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justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 5 months

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hello!!! I saw that your requests were open and that you did Sahsr!! Could I request some headcanons with Caelus, Dan Heng, Welt, Jing Yuan, Blade and Adventurine, hearing the player singing for the first time?

They're singing Loser Baby from Hazbin Hotel to cheer up their friend or singing Addict from the Hazbin Hotel Pilot (including the sad verse) when feeling blue.

Thank youu!

Hi Anon! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took so long. I hope you like the headcanons!

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail

Characters: Caelus, Dan Heng, Welt Yang, Jing Yuan, Blade, Aventurine x gn! Reader

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In a self-aware au, what do the characters think of you singing while you play? Also, bonus headcanons on which Hazbin Hotel song each of the characters like best.

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Caelus was surprised when he first heard you sing but after a moment to appreciate it, he’s not going to be able to resist humming along, immediately blowing his cover.

He’s definitely going to join in when you’re singing songs he knows and likes, whether he’s a good singer or not. If he can make you smile or laugh by doing that, he’s achieved his mission.

But at the same time, he loves hearing your voice alone. He’s especially fond of quiet days where he can relax with you, listening to you sing whatever song comes to mind.

I think Caelus’ favourite Hazbin Hotel song would be “Respectless”. He’s certainly been that a few times on his travels and he loves the sass you put into your voice whenever you sing it.

Out of everyone, I think Dan Heng would be the only one not surprised to hear you sing. He’s got a lot of knowledge about a lot of things so I think he would be able to tell you’d have a nice singing voice from the way you talk.

However, that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to enjoy listening to you. Whether you notice him or not, he’ll encourage you to keep singing while he works.

Occasionally, he may hum along to a song, but he generally prefers hearing your voice without any other auditory distractions.

This may seem like a strange match at first, but I think Dan Heng would like “Ready for This”. He likes the music, sure, but he also really enjoys hearing how different characters change throughout the song.

This music lover has found his soulmate. He’s sure of it. Someone who can sing as well as you can is the perfect match for someone who likes listening to singing as much as he does.

If you’re singing to yourself, Welt will do his best to quiet so he doesn’t interrupt you. He wants to keep listening for as long as possible.

He really wants to request songs from time to time but for the most part, he’s happy with whatever you pick.

I can see his favourite Hazbin Hotel song being “More Than Anything” just for the slow loving vibes. He might not be much of a singer, but he would like to duet this song with you.

Oh, Jing Yuan’s going to be insufferable as soon as he finds out how well you can sing. He’ll always be humming, hinting at you to sing something.

Has fallen asleep listening to you more than once. Thankfully he wasn’t doing anything important at the time…

Jing Yuan definitely has a nice singing voice, so he’d enjoy joining you in your songs sometimes, especially if it’s a duet.

This man loves “Loser, Baby”. That’s all that needs to be said here. He likes how fun it is while still conveying a good message.

I feel like Blade might be initially indifferent to your singing abilities. They’re not useful in combat so what’s the point of them?

At the same time, he’s likely to sulk around until you feel like singing yourself. As soon as that happens, he’s back on his A-game.

Because even though he claims not to care, Blade loves listening to you sing. There have been few sleeps as good as the ones he’s had after falling asleep to your voice.

Blade’s favourite Hazbin Hotel song is “Hell is Forever”. He originally thought it was going to be edgy and instead ended up really liking it for what it is.

I haven’t really had a lot of experience with Aventurine either as a character or writing for him so hopefully this isn’t too out of character, but I think he’d love your singing if only because it’s better than the music that plays in game.

Whenever he walks into a building that normally has music playing, he’ll turn it off (somehow) so your voice takes over.

I can’t see him singing along but he might hum a few notes if you’ve been quiet for a while and he wants to hear you sing. He can’t blow his cover, so he’s got s drop subtle hints that he wants you to sing for him.

I think his favourite Hazbin Hotel song would be "Stayed Gone". It seems to match the vibe he’s got going on and I definitely see some similarities between Aventurine and Vox.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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gayhoediaz · 5 months

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of backshots and blunders

3.2k || E

“Fuuuuck.” The thick, long moan pours out of Buck’s throat as Tommy slowly sinks inside of him, stretching him out on his thick, long, perfect cock. It’s only the third time, but Buck is already completely and utterly fucking addicted. It’s as if he ceases to be human every time that he gets to have this - it’s just him, and Tommy, and a hot, roaring fire inside of him, craving more - nothing else matters. “Feel good, baby?” Tommy asks from behind him, his large, warm, callused palm caressing its way up his spine until it finally reaches his hair, massaging his scalp as he gives a slight grind, a sharp bolt of pleasure zipping up Buck’s spine as he pushes up against his prostate. It’s the first time they’re doing it this way - the first two times, Tommy insisted on having him on his back so he could check for any discomfort - and Buck certainly wasn’t about to complain about looking his hot pilot boyfriend in the eyes as he took him apart - but now they both know that Buck can handle it - beautifully, according to Tommy, which makes Buck feel all kinds of things - so for the first time, he’s on all fours, Tommy’s other hand keeping a firm, steady grip on his hip - and fuck, Buck thinks that this angle might be even better. “Fuck, yes,” he nearly laughs, rolling his hips back, pressing his ass into Tommy’s pelvis as he flexes his muscles, squeezing him tightly, using his insides to massage his beautiful cock. “Feel so good, Tommy,” he praises - and then, because he’s craving what he knows Tommy will grant him in response; “How do I look?” he asks, giving another roll of his hips, deliberately arching his back. “God, Evan,” Tommy sighs at that, the hand in his hair growing slightly rougher as he continues massaging his scalp, Buck practically purring like a cat, chasing the attention as he feels his other hand drift away from his hip, and down to his ass, gently pulling his cheek to the side. “Like my own personal porn star, fuck, kid, I can’t believe I get to have you in my bed,” he grunts, as he slowly pulls himself out - and then rolls back in, both of them grunting in unison, Buck’s sound trailing off into a whine. “So beautiful stretched out on my cock,” he adds on the second thrust - still keeping things somewhat slow as Buck feels his thumb drift down to his rim, pressing down lightly. Buck mewls. “You’re doing so good, baby,” he says. “Always so good for me, that’s all you ever want, huh?” “Yes,” Buck huffs, nodding sharply as he rocks his hips, enthusiastically meeting Tommy’s steady thrusts. “Can you pull my hair?” Most of their exploring has been fairly plain so far - which is not to say that it hasn’t been fucking fantastic - but they have both been a little bit more focused on Buck learning how to not choke on Tommy’s cock rather than whether or not they like having their hair pulled. This morning feels different, though - it feels as if they’re finally settling into each other, growing more comfortable. “Like this?” Tommy asks, immediately getting with the program, hand tightening into a fist, craning Buck’s neck just a little bit backwards. “More,” Buck pants, and then he swipes his tongue out of his mouth to wet his lips, but he doesn’t quite end up putting it back, instead he leaves it resting out over his bottom lip, eyes closed as he lets himself be controlled by the pleasure coursing through his veins. “Oh, more, huh?” Tommy pants, amusement painting his tone as his hand grows tighter once again, the pins and needles sensation tingling all over Buck’s scalp, just on the right side of pain as his neck is twisted even further back. “Yes, fuck, that’s it,” he praises, allowing his hips to grow even more enthusiastic as he slams them back into Tommy’s body, the thud thud thud soon echoing beautifully around the mezzanine.

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#bucktommy #911 abc #fanfiction #buck x tommy #brewrosemilk #niesfics #writing tag

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roosterforme · 11 months

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Always Ever Only You Part 19 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Before Bradley leaves for the top secret mission, you manage to send him on a special mission of your own. You want a little taste of how Bradley might have operated in the past, and he's willing to indulge your role playing fantasy. He's prepared for the possibility that you might laugh in his face, but he's not prepared for the other roadblock.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, self doubt, fluff, smut, spanking, role playing, bad pickup lines

Length: 6600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

You were practically giddy from nerves on Thursday night as you sat curled up on Bradley's lap on the couch while you talked on the phone with your mom. Your husband was running his fingers up and down your bare thigh and underneath his shirt that you were wearing, and your head was resting on his shoulder.

"When are you thinking about coming out?" you asked, switching the call to speakerphone so Bradley could hear everything. You looked up at him and smirked; he loved your parents and they loved him, but he hated when they stayed at your house. Last time they visited, he lied to your mom and told her he had hotel points that were going to expire before booking them a room at a five star hotel on his credit card. That way you and he could still have loud sex wherever and whenever you wanted to.

You kissed his cheek as your mom said, "Maybe the beginning of July? Just for a few days?"

"Oh, we could go to a Padres game like dad wanted to last time," you said, already thinking about getting tickets.

Bradley cleared his throat and said, "I think I have more hotel points. I could book you a room at that nice hotel again."

You had to clap your hand over your mouth before you started to laugh, and he just grinned at you.

"Oh, that hotel was lovely," you mom crooned. "But don't go out of your way, Bradley. Only if you have points that will expire."

"I always have points that are about to expire," he said quietly before you elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow!"

"That actually sounds great, mom. How about you get back to me with exact dates next week sometime? Bradley will be away on a short deployment, but he should be back by the start of July."

"Sure. Let me check with your dad, and we can let you know. Love you both."

"Love you," Bradley said the same time you did, and then you ended the call.

"You're the worst," you told him as you tossed your phone aside and straddled his lap. He looked so satisfied with himself, all you could do was shake your head. "Your ego is huge now, too. You're going to become a nightmare for me."

"My ego isn't huge, Sweetheart," he whispered. "Maybe other things are, but not that."

You rolled your eyes and kissed him softly. "Don't even try to deny that you've been strutting around since you got home from work and told me that Cyclone said you were 'one of the best pilots to ever come out of Top Gun'."

Bradley shrugged and bent his elbows, tucking his hands behind his head. "He said it, not me."

You scooted a little closer, nudging his cock intentionally with your thigh. You could feel him twitching for you, already getting a reaction. "That's why they picked you for the mission. You're the best, Roo."

"We should talk about tomorrow night." His voice was deep with that biting rasp that made your skin feel hot. "Go over the details since you won't let me see you after work."

You bit your lip and braced your hands on his shoulders. You bought a tiny dress and some new heels for tomorrow night, and you didn't want him to see you in them before he met you at the bar. You didn't want him to know anything about that until he saw you. "Well..." you started, scooting a little closer still. "You're going to meet me at One Trick Pony in North Park at 8:30. Don't forget to leave your wedding ring at home."

"I told you, I don't like taking it off unless I have to," he murmured, and you nearly moaned at his words. But he didn't touch you at all; he kept his hands behind his head.

Your body was practically vibrating at the possibilities for tomorrow night. You would be getting the full experience of what Bradley was like before he met you. Part of you had been dying to know how he would have tried to pick you up if he only wanted to sleep with you. But mostly you were thrilled that nearly two years ago, he wanted a whole lot more than that when you met him.

"Well, if you want to fully role play as strangers, you'll have to leave it behind. Just for a few hours. I'm taking both of mine off tonight before bed so I don't forget in the morning."

"You're not wearing them to work?" he asked, looking a little upset.

"It's just for one day. And you can't come home after work. You'll have to get ready in the locker room so I can get ready here."

His cheeks were a little pink now as he examined your face. "I already told you, this is just going to be embarrassing. There's no way I could have pulled you if we met at a bar, Baby Girl. I'd have taken one look at you, and I don't think I would have even tried it. If you and I hadn't been assigned to work together when we met, I would have absolutely never stood a chance."

You kissed the tip of his nose and whispered, "You have literally no appreciation for just how hot you are, Bradley. And that doesn't even begin to delve into all of the other wonderful things you have to offer."

Finally he brought his hands to your hips, but instead of removing your shirt like you were hoping, he scooped you up and carried you to the bedroom. "We should get some sleep so I can be well rested when you're laughing in my face tomorrow night."

When you pulled him down on top of you in bed, you said, "Or, we could stay up and have sex."

"No," he said, shaking his head as he stood next to the bed with his semi hard cock poking his shorts. "Not tonight. I want you good and needy tomorrow. I'm hoping that'll make things easier for me."

You whined his name and said, "There's no way I'm not leaving One Trick Pony with you, Roo. That's a given."

"I know, but I guess I kind of want to feel like I earned it." He was blushing again as he walked into the bathroom. "Like I impressed you or something."

You groaned and rolled over so you were face down on your pillow. He really had no idea.

------------------------------

You had Bradley all tied up in knots. He hadn't even seen you at lunch or anything, and now he was showering after a long day in the air. His body was sore. He was exhausted. He was leaving on Monday for South Korea before heading somewhere classified. And he had less than two hours until he was supposed to meet you at some civilian bar you told him you went to one time with Cam and Maria.

In theory, tonight should be fun. Role playing with you? He fucking loved it. Getting to take you home from the bar and sleep with you? He lived for it. You were his wife, of course he was excited about that part. But his bad lines and terrible moves of yesteryear were something he hadn't thought about since... well since he met you. The best part about being with you was that he never had to pull that shit out to try to impress you. He was just himself around you, and you seemed to like that from the start. Sure he was nervous the first few times he talked to you, but that was because he was already infatuated with everything about you. Not because he was looking to fuck you in the backseat of his Bronco and then forget about you the next day.

He took an extra long shower, and luckily everyone else had cleared out by the time he finished up. He made sure his mustache looked good, and he shaved the rest of his face. He fixed up his hair so it looked tidy, and then he dressed in his black slacks that were a little snug in all the places you liked. And then he slipped on his black shirt with the tropical white and gold floral print. As he did up the buttons, he wondered why you wouldn't let him get ready at home. Maybe you bought a new dress. Now he was getting excited. Maybe it was short. He quickly packed everything up in his locker and headed out to the Bronco.

After he killed some time by stopping for food, he realized it was nearly 8:00. North Park was trendy, so he wanted to have time to find parking and get to One Trick Pony on time. He found a spot a few blocks away, on a quiet residential street, and he checked himself in the mirror one last time before locking the doors and making his way to the bar.

There were students and artists and musicians out, and he felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb. He was used to the Hard Deck, not a trendy civilian bar with dim lights and music that was recorded post 1978.

He was too old for this. He'd just zip in here, let you laugh at him, and then take you home to bed where he'd teach you a lesson and beg you never to make him do this again. The bar was already kind of crowded, and when he checked the time on his phone, it was 8:28. Showtime. He just needed to figure out where you were.

He did a lap around the room as he ran his thumb along his bare ring finger with a grimace. There were some girls looking at him. They looked like they could have been in college, and he wasn't sure if they were going to laugh at him or try to buy him a drink. He just nodded in their direction when they waved to him. He missed his ring. He missed his own bar. And he missed his wife in his arms.

Where were you? Bradley didn't even see you anywhere as he started his second lap. Then the color red caught his eye. He saw the back of someone sitting on the last stool at the bar through the crowd of people that looked like it could be you. That looked like your hair. That was definitely your hand, and when you turned to look up at the man who was standing next to you, Bradley could see your beautiful profile.

He took off in your direction with a grin threatening his lips as he tried to keep himself calm. When he got closer, he stumbled. You were spinning sideways in your seat, still looking at the man standing there, and his eyes were looking straight down your dress. If that sexy little thing even qualified as a dress.

"Shit," Bradley gasped, because you were wearing a tiny bit of wine red fabric that clung to your body and left almost nothing to the imagination. And you had on black heels that laced up your calves and tied in cute little bows that he wanted to run his lips all over. When your eyes skimmed the crowd in his direction, they paused on Bradley for the briefest beat, but you gave no indication that he was familiar to you, let alone that he was your fucking husband.

No, you were every bit of the smoking hot stranger you wanted to be tonight, and Bradley's cock was already throbbing at the sight of your straw pressed to your bright red lips as you drank. And then it all clicked into place for him. That other guy bought you a drink. But of course he did. You and Bradley agreed not to break character, and Bradley was stupid enough to not even realize through his own nerves what that meant: that you'd appear one hundred percent single. It meant you'd have other guys all over you!

You were out of his league when he met you, and you definitely still were now. And this fucking wall street douche bag wannabe in a gray suit bought you what looked like a dirty Shirley Temple which kind of matched your dress. Bradley had no doubt in his mind what the douche bag was thinking. He had to be imagining your tits and how perfect they'd look with your dress on his floor later. But he was never going to have that distinct pleasure. Bradley would make sure of it.

Be took a deep breath and closed the distance to your stool. You knew he was here now, so there was no sense in delaying this any further. He wanted your undivided attention, and he wanted it now.

"What did you say your name was again, sexy?" gray suit asked you as he inched closer.

You told him your first name, and Bradley's skin crawled.

"Fuck, that's so pretty," he replied. And then he had the nerve to repeat your name a few times as Bradley came to stop right near you before the douche bag added, "I just want to make sure I get your name right for later, doll. You know, for when you come home with me." Bradley gave him a bland look as jealousy rose to the surface. Yeah, that wasn't about to happen.

You didn't look too impressed by this guy as you sipped your drink and glanced at Bradley out of the corner of your eye. And holy shit, you were even more exquisite up close. Every curve of your breasts and thighs was just right there for him and everyone else to see. Your makeup made your eyes look even more animated than usual, and your red lips were dying to be kissed by him. It had been almost two years since Bradley had done this shit, but he supposed he could do it one last time.

"Hi," Bradley rasped, and you turned to look at him with a soft smirk. The asshole in the gray suit just glared in his direction and sized him up with his tumbler in hand. But if there was one thing Bradley wasn't afraid of, it was a skinny blond guy in a designer suit with bad taste in whiskey. So he kept his eyes on you as he said, "You're gorgeous."

Your smirk grew into just the tiniest smile as you said, "Well, hello there. Are you going to tell me your name?" you asked. "Ethan here already told me his before he bought me a drink." You gestured to the other guy, to Ethan, and then uncrossed and recrossed your legs. On any other evening, Bradley's hands would be all over your body. He'd already be suggesting the two of you head home for the night.

"My name's Bradley. And I'm fighting the urge to make you the happiest woman in this bar right now."

Your laugh was so genuine and surprised, Bradley cracked a smile too. He held out his right hand, and you shook it as you told him your name. He added on your last name hyphenated with Bradshaw in his mind, reminding himself that you were already his. Then he nodded toward the exit with one eyebrow raised.

"Nice try, Bradley. But I'm not going anywhere with you," was your response as your hand slipped out of his with a grin. Then that straw returned to your lips as you finished your drink, your eyes skimming over Bradley's outfit like you'd never seen it before. In reality his clothes were all hanging up next to yours in the bedroom closet in the home that you shared.

"Can I get you another one?" Bradley asked, letting his eyes settle on your empty glass.

Ethan stepped a little closer to him and said, "Hey, man. I was buying her drinks first. Why don't you go find someone else?"

Bradley snorted and squared his shoulders. "That's not gonna happen, man. This one's the only one I want."

Your smile grew as you set your empty glass down for the bartender to take. "Can I get you another one?" she asked you, and both Bradley and Ethan said yes immediately.

You looked a little overwhelmed as you adjusted your dress, and Ethan had the audacity to moan. Bradley's hands clenched into fists as the other man leaned in and brushed his fingers along your neck. Another man was touching Bradley's wife, and there was nothing he could do about it unless you broke character. He felt short of breath as he thought about all the ways he'd love to pound Ethan into the ground. Nobody else should have intimate knowledge of your soft skin right now.

Then the douche bag spoke, and Bradley's stance faltered at the obnoxious line he used. "Doll, if you look this good in your little red dress, I don't know if I'm going to be able to handle you out of it later. But I can't wait to give it a try," he crooned in what Bradley was sure he thought was a charming voice.

"I can guarantee you can't handle her, Ethan," Bradley rasped as he watched you remove his hand from your body yet again. There were some nights you were so needy, Bradley could barely handle you himself, but he'd die before he saw someone else give it a shot. "And you're never gonna find out for sure."

Bradley never fought over a girl in his life. In the past, he'd just find a different one and head in that direction instead. But right now, he was going to have to guarantee that he was better than Ethan. So he reached over and handed his credit card to the bartender when she dropped off two more drinks for you. "Here you go, gorgeous," he murmured just for you. "Make me jealous of that straw again."

Once again, Bradley got a genuine laugh out of you as he stood to his full height. You looked up at him with your straw resting on your lip and said, "Thank you, Bradley," before taking a sip. His cock twitched in his pants as Ethan stood there impatiently, jockeying for position with you.

And then you stood up from your bar stool, still sipping your drink. Your heels were so high, your height hit a different spot on Bradley than he wasn't used to. And now you were kind of sandwiched between him and Ethan in the crowded space. When you looked up to your right through your long eyelashes, Bradley was there. But Ethan was on your left, and it appeared as though he was thinking about touching you again.

Bradley glared at him as you paused sipping your drink and asked, "Are you really jealous of my straw, Bradley?"

You wanted to hear more of his lines as you looked up at him, he could tell. He knew they were corny, but when he hesitated too long, he could feel your attention drifting to Ethan. So he told you, "I'm jealous of the straw and the glass and the whole damn drink, Sweetheart."

Your soft laughter made Ethan grab for the other fresh cocktail on the bar top in frustration. "Here's another one. The one I paid for," he reminded you.

"Nah," Bradley said, never taking his eyes off you. "She seems like a one drink kind of girl." Your straw was marked up from your lipstick, and he took a deep breath before feeding you another line. "And that's a nice shade of lipstick you're wearing. I wonder what it would look like on me."

But the thing was, it didn't feel like a line when he said it to you. Yeah, it was ridiculous, but he really did want your lipstick all over him. And he really was jealous of your straw, because on a normal night, he'd have had his lips on yours by now.

"You'd like to find out, wouldn't you?" you asked, clearly enjoying teasing him right now. "I think red might be your color."

"It's my favorite color," Bradley said softly. "Your lips and your little dress are just confirming that fact for me, Sweetheart."

You giggled and ducked your chin to the side. "I have a red car, too."

Bradley wanted to ask if you were wearing those red panties he was obsessed with, but he could tell that Ethan wasn't going to be deterred. "Did I mention that I'm an investment banker? And that I'd love to take you for a ride in my Ferrari?" Ethan asked, trying his best to nudge Bradley out of the way.

Bradley wanted to laugh; this poor guy had no idea that you drove an absolute relic and couldn't give a shit about his overpriced import. "Investment banking?" you asked him. "I have a degree in engineering. You must be very good at math."

Ethan shrugged with a smirk, because he finally had your attention now, and Bradley was the one getting antsy. Your body was still close to his, but he couldn't touch you yet. He hadn't earned that right yet. Ethan's hand was on your elbow as he told you, "There are very few things I'm not good at." Then he leaned in close to whisper something in your ear, but your eyes were on Bradley, daring him to win you in this match.

--------------------------

Ethan's breath was on your neck, and you were frozen in place, your dirty Shirley Temple gripped in your hand. Maybe this tiny dress was a bad idea after all. But Bradley had been doing so well, getting you laughing unexpectedly with his stupid lines. You knew he'd keep you safe right now, and if you lunged at him and told him you were done with this whole game and wanted to go home, he'd get you out of here immediately. But you wanted to finish this. You just hadn't planned on someone like Ethan being part of the scenario.

Bradley's fists were clenched as he stood just inches from you and watched things unfold. The shade of pink rising high on his cheeks left you biting your lip as you firmly pushed Ethan a few inches away from you. He didn't have a mustache or pretty brown curls or eyes that you wanted to look at all night. He wasn't yours. You decided to help Bradley out as you asked him, "So, what do you do?"

Ethan looked annoyed as Bradley perked up again. "I'm a pilot," he said, his voice deep and dangerous. "For the Navy." Even if you didn't know that voice by heart, you'd be ready to throw your arms around his neck and beg him to keep talking. Your nipples were hard in your tight dress, and you could feel Ethan's gaze on your body. But Bradley was looking you right in the eye as he smiled softly.

Ethan scoffed. "The Navy? Don't you have your own bars full of tag chasers to hang out at?"

Bradley swallowed hard, the scars on his neck bobbing with his Adam's apple. "The chance of finding a woman like this in a Navy hangout would have to be one in a million. That's why I came here tonight. Because there's no chance of that ever happening again."

You practically moaned for your husband, standing there feeding you subtle lines about the early part of your relationship with him. You wanted him to touch you, but he wasn't yet. And you wanted to touch him, but you were waiting for him to take things to the next level when he was ready for it. You sipped your fresh drink, your head feeling a little lighter as you squeezed your thighs together in need.

"One in a million?" you asked Bradley, your new straw already covered in your lipstick marks.

He nodded and ran the backs of his fingers along your cheek, and you wanted so badly to melt into him. "Yeah... you're one in a million."

"Listen, doll," Ethan interjected loudly. "Maybe you don't know what a tag chaser is, but there's no way this guy doesn't have them all over him on the regular. He looks the type."

Bradley's cheeks were red now as he looked down at the floor. Somehow Ethan managed to touch on one of the topics your husband was most sensitive about without even knowing it. "I wouldn't be surprised," you told Ethan. "He's built like a brick shithouse, and he's got a mustache." You ran one hand up Bradley's forearm and bicep to his paper plane tattoo. Then he met your eyes, and you added, "And his lines aren't crude."

It was obvious how Bradley was able to pick up women with such ease. He wasn't handsy or gross or over the top. If this was his tactic years ago, it probably worked every single time. You wanted to kiss him in the worst way right now.

"I mean, I'd at least let you spend the weekend after I fuck you," Ethan said, returning to his drink in defeat as you held your straw out to Bradley. "Not so sure about him."

You rolled your eyes as that deep blush returned to Bradley's cheeks, but when you asked, "You wanna try my drink?" your husband nodded and bent a few inches. And then there was a smudge of your lipstick on his bottom lip that was making you giddy.

"Thought you were hot and smart," Ethan mumbled. "Tag chaser. Just a dumb bitch."

Then Bradley's hand was on your back, pulling you a little closer to him as he snapped. "She's way fucking smarter than you, asshole." You watched your husband take several deep breaths, and you were a little nervous he might go after Ethan. But then he turned to you with soft eyes. "You have a master's degree, Sweetheart? You seem like you probably do."

You nodded and bit your lip as you tried not to laugh at the question he already knew the answer to. "I do, actually."

"See? She's smart. Fuck off, Ethan," Bradley grunted, his eyes on your face as the other man finally wandered away. "Do you want another drink?" he asked, his hand still at a respectful spot on your back. You were about to give him a filthy kiss, and then you caught yourself. You were still role playing. This wasn't over just because Ethan walked off leaving you alone with your husband.

You felt excited goosebumps on your arms. "No. I think I've had enough," you replied, easing yourself back onto the bar stool and crossing your legs so that you were seated sideways.

Bradley leaned in close to your face with one hand braced on the bar top and one resting on your knee. "Then how am I supposed to show you my big move?" he asked, stroking your skin with his rough thumb.

You bumped your nose with his as you asked, "What's your big move, Bradley?"

He was all smiles now as he said, "I always have good luck when I bump a pretty girl's bar stool and accidentally spill her drink all over her legs."

You were laughing softly at his description of what happened to you at the Hard Deck that very first night. "I don't think that's even necessary now," you whispered. "You have my full attention."

"Well that's only fair since you've had my full attention since I arrived."

You felt wild, like your skin was electric. Every stroke of his familiar hand further up along your leg felt brand new in a way that you couldn't explain. This was your Roo right now, touching you so intentionally, but it also wasn't. You needed to find out what all of this would feel like.

You brushed your lips against his, and your whole body clenched for him. He chased you for another kiss as soon as you started to pull away. And you let his hand slide up inside your short dress as he brought his other one up to stroke your cheek.

"You're exquisite," he whispered between kisses, watching his own fingers trace your cheek as you melted inside. "One of a kind."

"Bradley," you whimpered, afraid you and he were both about to break character. "Do you use that one on all the girls?"

He ran his thumb down along your lips as he shook his head. "That's not a line. It's just the truth."

You giggled and kissed his thumb before his hand trailed down to your neck. He didn't stop. He was stroking the tops of your breasts as you gasped, but his eyes remained on yours. He looked cocky and so sure of himself now. As he should, because he already knew exactly what you liked and how to make you lose your cool. "Bradley," you moaned.

"God, I love the way that sounds," he murmured, and you wrapped your calf round his thigh. "You make my name sound so good."

You kissed him before running your lips along his mustache. "I bet you could keep me saying it." Your fingers were in his hair, and you were already wet for him. You knew you'd never react to a random guy at the bar like this, and something told you Bradley wasn't out there a few years ago telling women they were exquisite. But it didn't matter. None of it mattered as you made out with your husband at the bar and pretended you had just met him.

He broke the kiss and let his forehead rest on yours. You were on the edge of the bar stool and precariously close to letting him find out you weren't wearing underwear as you moaned his name loud enough that you were afraid someone else might hear you over the music that was playing.

"I know for a fact I can come up with at least a dozen ways to make you scream my name, and that's if I'm only using my mouth, Baby Girl."

You gasped and rubbed your knee along his hard cock. "Baby Girl, huh? Is that what you call all the girls you hit on at the bar?"

"Absolutely not," he growled, pressing himself against you for more pressure. "Only the one I want to call me Daddy."

Fuck. Okay. You were ready to go. When you looked at him, your new shade of lipstick was smudged across his mouth, and it really did look great. You knew for a fact it would look great on his cock, too.

"I want you right now, Daddy," you whispered.

"I'm all yours," he replied immediately, carefully taking your calf in his hand before letting his fingers slide up your leg as he helped you down from the stool. As you stood and recovered from your daze, you watched him collect his credit card from the bar and quickly sign the slip for the bartender. But his other hand remained on you the entire time. "You coming home with me? I promise to take exceptional care of you."

The way your pussy clenched as you moaned was absolutely ridiculous.

"I'll take that as a yes," he murmured, bending to press his lips to your shoulder before he took your hand in his and led you toward the exit. You caught sight of Ethan as you passed him, and Bradley's hand dipped down to your butt. "You gonna say goodbye?" he asked with a smirk.

You waved and called out, "Bye, Ethan! I'm going home with Daddy here. He promised to take exceptional care of me." The other man looked annoyed as he turned away from you, still sipping his whiskey. "Let's go, Daddy," you told your husband, cupping his cock through his pants as you stepped out onto the sidewalk, leaving One Trick Pony behind.

"This way," he grunted, turning left and lacing his fingers with yours.

"Bradley," you gasped, trying your best to keep up with his long strides in your outrageously high heels. "Daddy, wait!"

"No," he grunted, simply picking you up in his arms and continuing down the sidewalk. You were giggling and wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed his ear. His right arm was around your back, and your knees were bent over his left arm. He was rushing down the sidewalk like it was nothing.

"I'm not wearing underwear," you whispered, keeping your legs smashed firmly together and praying nobody could see anything. But it was dark, and soon Bradley was turning down one of the quieter streets.

"I know," he replied in that raspy voice. "That fucking dress looks like it was painted on you. Do you have any idea how little work I'll have to do on my backseat to get my cock inside your pussy and my mouth on your bare tits?"

"Bradley!" you nearly shouted, your mouth agape. "Do you say that to all the girls?"

He set you down next to the Bronco and wedged his thigh between your legs. You were absolutely panting as he unlocked the doors and said, "What do you think, Baby Girl? Nobody else looks like you or sounds like you or tastes like you. You're top tier."

"Oh my god," you whined as you rubbed yourself on his thigh. "I need you to fuck me immediately." Thank goodness it was so dark over here as he cupped your butt in both hands. Then Bradley hiked your dress up to your hips and opened the back door for you.

"Get in the fucking Bronco."

---------------------------

The fly of his pants was open, his cock was rock hard and hanging out, and you were slipping down around him with that perfect pussy. Bradley had the bottom of your dress hiked up and the top of it pulled down, and you were riding him on the backseat.

He had one big hand around the back of your neck, and the other was squeezing your tits as you whined, "Daddy."

Fuck, you had him so turned on, you and he were going at in on a residential street in the city at 10:00 pm on a Friday. He was always this feral for you, but you just had to go and add another layer to things. You just had to make him earn this privilege tonight. Because that's just how fucking hot you made him when he had to work for it.

As you bounced up and down on his cock and whined for him, he realized that tonight had in many ways been a great example of how he used to be with women. But it was also nothing like he'd ever encountered. Sure, he'd used some of those lines and his hand on a knee with other women before, but most of what he did and said was uniquely his reaction to you.

"Top fucking tier," he growled, leaning down to suck on your nipple as you rolled your hips against his.

"This is so hot," you gasped, head back and tits practically shoved in his face. He was trying his best to ensure that nobody was nearby who could potentially see what you were doing, but it didn't even matter. You and he wouldn't have made it home in this condition. Not tonight.

"Daddy," you whined a little louder now. You were bouncing on his cock hard and fast. Dirty. Raunchy. Like this was a one off. Like you and he were about to hit it and forget it. He shouldn't be this hard right now. He shouldn't be wrapping one hand around your neck and smacking your ass with the other. But he needed to hear you whimpering for him. "Oh my god!" you nearly shrieked.

Your eyes were wide as you tugged on his hair, and that dirty roll of your hips grew more languid as you made all those noises he loved as you came around his cock. "Jesus, Baby Girl," he gasped, pressing his lips to your tits and holding you tight as your orgasm left you a mess on his lap.

"Roo," you moaned, your hips rocking slower and slower, and that was it. One word and he was coming, too. Now you were all smiles and soft giggles, kissing his entire face as he squeezed your hips and fucked up into you until he was spent and you were filled with his cum.

If you broke character by calling him Roo, then he could too. He squeezed your leg and dug around in his pants pocket, his hips still rolling up against yours. You just felt too good as you kissed him. He took all three rings out of his pocket and broke the kiss. "Hey," he whispered. "Put these back on."

Bradley opened his palm and you looked at the collection of rings. You took both of yours with a smile and slid them on your finger while he did the same. "Did you take them to work with you today, Roo?" you asked him softly.

"Yeah," he grunted, still toying gently with your tits as you let your head rest on his shoulder. "Hated that you took them off last night."

You sighed. "You're so romantic. Tonight was so romantic."

He chuckled and shook his head, his cock still buried inside you. "You thought tonight was romantic? I had to outmaneuver that douche bag Ethan to get you. I had to work very hard for this."

"You did great, Daddy. But I must say, I'm not sure those lines really worked on other girls. You're just really, really hot."

"Hmm," he hummed against your forehead before kissing you. "Then it's a good thing you were already in love with me tonight. And it's a good thing I made you spill your beer on yourself that first time we hung out at the bar." He let his fingers trail down your legs to play with your high heels.

You pushed yourself off his shoulder and sat up as you murmured, "Like I said you're very romantic." Bradley watched you slide the tiny straps of your dress back up your arms as he gave both of your nipples one more kiss, eliciting more giggles from you. "Did you like my dress, Daddy?"

He grunted and lightly slapped your bare ass so you were biting your lip as you shimmied your dress up over your breasts. "Baby Girl, you look like Daddy's little slut in this thing. And that is not a complaint. It's a compliment. Yes, Daddy likes this dress. A lot."

Bradley should have been alarmed by the look in your eye and the way you were gently rolling your hips again, making him stir. "Please?" you asked softly. "Again? As Daddy's little slut this time?"

He stilled your hips with his hands and shook his head as you pouted. Jesus, he couldn't believe you were up for more role playing right now. "Hey. If you're gonna dress like a slut, then I'll fuck you like a slut. But I'm doing that at home in our bed. Because we're married. And I love you. And I need the drive home to recover."

Then a bright smile spread across your face, and you reached for the box of tissues on the floor. "Don't get cum on the upholstery," you whispered, and then Bradley was treated to the sight of your bare ass and pussy as you climbed into the front seat and pulled your dress down over your rear end. You turned around and looked at him expectantly as he cleaned his cum off of his cock. "Hurry up and buckle me in so we can get home. I need my Daddy."

Bradley smiled. "On my way, Sweetheart."

-----------------------------

We are full steam ahead with these two role players. I hope you enjoyed this, because I was so happy to finally get to write it. Special mission and Bradley's birthday gift coming soon. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 20

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midnightdevotion · 1 year

Text

Hang in There

Request: Hi I saw you opened and requests and I can’t stop thinking about Rooster finding fem reader passed out somewhere after training because she’s pregnant with Hangman’s baby 👀 Maybe she’s been off a while and hangman is still ✈️

a/n: hi guys! it's been forever since i posted something- i will update all my fics soon just needed some inspo from requests to get my mojo back. Thanks for understanding loves.

Pairing: Jake Seresin x female reader(Callsign Daisy)

Life has a way of kicking your ass in unexpected ways. After waking up sick for two weeks in a row you went to the doctors, only to find out you were pregnant. 8 weeks pregnant no less.

Now your approaching 10 weeks and you still don't know how to process that your pregnant, let alone tell your boyfriend. You know you want kids, but this is definitely not how you envisioned it happening.

The fear of telling Jake and losing him for this is something that has you up all night, every night. You can't help but thank you're lucky stars he's been on a mission for the last month because after waking up sick every day and hardly sleeping from the stress of it all, he would've figured you out. He should be getting home later today and you don't know what to do.

Logically, you know that while he plays the part of jackass cocky pilot, he worships you, and he would never be so low to leave you and your baby. His Texas roots would never let him. However, you're pregnant so your hormones don't let you settle the anxiety with logic.

Flinching as a door slams it knocks you out of the anxious spiral that has been your mind for the last few weeks.

"hey daisy you ready to kick some ass today?"

"when am I not" you send what you hope is a convincing smile towards rooster. You move around him grimacing as you walk into the sweltering southern California heat.

___

If there's one thing you can count on, flying is the one thing that gets you out of your head. It takes away all your fear and keeps you exactly in this moment. Nothing outside of being in the pilot seat matters. Not being pregnant, not every stress that comes with it being unplanned, and certainly no anxieties about what comes next.

There's no space for any of that. The second you climb that ladder, your life and everything about it falls away.

Today you are just running team trainings, and they are always your favorite. You have no upcoming mission scheduled so it's just to keep your skills refined and ready for when there is a mission.

"hey daisy, you know it's not fair when they team you up with Rooster, you should just let us win" coyote's voice crackles over the comms.

"Coyote how will you ever get better if I don't humble your ass every time i can?" your sarcastic reply echos back.

"C'mon just once! I've got a date tonight and I want to brag about being the winner"

"Tsk tsk you should know women don't want to hear you brag on the first date coyote. Maybe this is why you never get a second date."

"You can't seriously tell me the girl dating hangman told me not to brag right now."

Laughter crackles through from everyone, and you shake your head. Rooster gives you a signal and you move to his left ready to attack.

If there's one thing the dagger squad knows it's that when you and rooster fly together there is ultimately little to no chance for survival. Nobody expected the duo with callsigns rooster, and daisy to be such a lethal pair but you guys can read each others minds.

This is true on the ground too, which is why you've been avoiding rooster for two weeks. You know he can tell something is up, but if you avoid him, he can't figure out what.

"how quick do you think we can get them out today?" Roosters voice rasps.

"I reckon we will have them grounded in t-5 minutes"

"god not you too with the Texas talk" he groans.

"What you don't think it's charming?" he flips you off and you laugh.

Before you can respond you see coyote and payback flying. Dropping back to cover rooster you grin under the face mask. This is your favorite part of everyday.

Being up in the air with your best friends you feel invincible. Which is ironic considering this is actually a dangerous job.

"rooster, plan c"

"roger that" He goes shooting forward and you fall back. You laugh as you watch them chase rooster, it's symbolic in a way kids chase chickens and then get pecked.

You stay behind them until you move to get a shot. The sweet sound of missile lock rings out and payback drops off. Now that Coyote is onto you, the plan changes, and you become the bait.

You and Rooster know that he wants to air 'kill' you the most, which is why this plan will work. The temptation of you being right there will be too much for him to think about where rooster disappeared too.

So when rooster swoops in and gets the missile lock on coyote, you can't help but laugh. You and rooster devised this plan specifically for Coyote because he always complains when you two are teamed up together. So seeing it come to fruition and even better hearing Coyotes swearing, is the highlight of your day.

Grinning as you climb down from your jet, you search out rooster. You see him hopping onto the tarmac and walking over your way.

"roos we killed that!" you shout out at him. When you feet hit the tarmac, a rush swoops over you. Shaking it off you go to take a step and suddenly the world spins incredibly fast. Yet it feels like everything is going in slow motion, your vision goes spotty and you hear Rooster shout after you. The last thing you register before the world goes black is the sound of boots hitting the ground.

Rooster has never felt more scared to make a phone call in his life. How does he call Hangman and tell him that his girlfriend passed out, and is in the hospital bay when he has no idea why.

It's been four hours already, you haven't woken up and they won't give him any answers. His hair is a mess from stressing about his best friend not being okay while simultaneously worrying about how to tell the guy he knows would move heaven and earth for you.

His leg is bouncing up and down as he stares at the number dialed on his phone screen.

The fact of the matter is Hangman is probably still flying and won't be able to be contacted for a few more hours. The mission was a success, and then it was extended to have them run drills while at sea.

Bradley knows he has to make the call, but he's terrified that once he does it all feels more real. He's terrified to lose his best friend, He's lost enough already.

Sighing he rubs his hands down his face, picks back up his phone and hits the green call button. The ringing feels like the worst anticipation of his life. When it goes to voicemail his hands are shaking, and he doesn't know what to say so he just hangs up.

Next resort is to call the ship. A commander on board will contact hangman and deliver the bad news, and oh how he wanted to avoid it coming from anyone but him.

He feels a hand land on his shoulder, looking up and glancing at Mav he sighs.

"It's going to be okay Bradley"

"How could you possibly know that" Maverick sighs, and sits next to him.

"let me make the call." maverick opens his hand for him to hand him the phone.

"no- no I need to be the one.. just what do I say mav"

"you tell him the truth, you don't know yet what happened, she's stable but the doctors are finding out what happened and he needs to get back as soon as he can"

He swallows and it feels like steal is coating his throat. Nodding as he stands up he paces in front of mav.

"she's gonna be okay, she has to be okay. We take risks every day all day up in those jets, this can't be how she goes mav. She has to be okay."

"and she will be, but take a deep breathe and find yourself because when you get ahold of Seresin he needs you to be his rock, he doesn't need to hear you panic" Rooster sighs because Maverick is right. He grabs his phone and dials the ships emergency contact number.

It takes a few minutes, jumping through hoops, getting in contact with one person to be transferred to another. Rooster curses Jake for being so hard to get ahold of.

"This is warlock"

"Admiral, sir, this is Lieutenant Bradshaw. There's been an accident with Lieutenant y/l/n today and we need to get contact with Lieutenant Seresin."

"Jesus- is everything okay?"

"We're not really sure yet sir but Jake- he needs to know."

"He's in the air at the moment let me see if i can get him back on ship."

"thank you sir"

The minutes feel like hours as rooster is waiting. He hears chatter from his phone and he knows they are trying to get hangman back on the ship and available for the phone call but roosters not sure if he isn't ready to deliver the news or ready to get it over with.

What feels like an eternity later but is actually only twenty minutes he finally hears hangman in the background. He swallows hard.

"Rooster whats going on?" if there's one thing pilots know, they are never called down unless something bad happened.

"Jake. Something happened with daisy... she... she just passed out.."

"in the Air?!! Rooster tell me shes okay!"

"No no! not in the air.. we had just landed and i was walking over to her and she passed out. She's in the med bay now but we haven't heard anything about her condition yet."

"Fuck!..... Fuck!" in the background he hears jake asking how far from land they are. Ultimately needed to be there for you, needing to see you for himself. Bradley hears jake curse when the answer is still 3 hours out.

He hears a slam and then yelling before the line clicks dead. Rooster looks at maverick worried.

"what do you think he's gonna do"

"one way or another? getting a jet and flying here faster." is mavericks reply. Rooster can't help but agree, if he was 150 miles away from land on a boat that moves about 50 mph holding jets that move at 1,000 mph then he knows what option he would choose too.

----

It takes about 30 minutes for hangman to come rushing into the hospital bay.

"How is she, have we heard anything, what happened" He rapid fires off questions.

"the doctor came out and told us she passed out because she's sleep deprived and is showing signs of dehydration and that she hasn't eaten anything today."

"why- why hasn't, she knows she needs to eat- she's so good with drinking water... I don't understand." confusion crosses his fingers because none of that sounds like his girlfriend.

"when can i see her?"

"the doctor is going to come out soon and let us know what room she is in, they had to finish the tests to see if everything is okay."

Hangman nods and paces the floor where rooster paced about calling him. It only takes a couple minutes for a doctor to come out and call your name and everyone shoots up.

"Okay, well, I'm glad she has a support system but only one visitor at a time please, she does still need to rest and recover. She is in room 302"

Hangman takes off in a dead sprint towards the room.

---

Beeping is the next thing your mind registers, and it takes you a minute to open your eyes. Yawning you try to bring your hands up to rub your face but one is being held by something.

Looking over you see Jake studying your left hand.

"you know you scared the shit out of me today"

"Jake I-"

"why weren't you taking care of yourself?" this has you confused and furrowing your brows.

"I have been-"

"You were dehydrated, hadn't eaten and sleep deprived. It's why you passed out!"

"jake you've been gone! You don't know what I've been doing! I did eat breakfast and drink water this morning but I threw it up!"

"god darling daisy if your sick don't come to work!"

"I'm not sick!"

"some would say puking means your sick!"

"not when your pregnant!"

"you- you're pregnant?"

"Yes Jake! I've been throwing up for weeks because of stupid morning sickness and I haven't been sleeping well because oh my god I'm pregnant and that is the scariest thing, and I was worried to talk to you about it but I guess that's out now isn't it." Theres a silence that lingers on after your words, and it feels like ice pumping into your heart the longer it stretches on.

"oh- oh my god" your throat feels thick at his words, he's looking down at your still clasped hands and you watch him to gauge his reaction.

"we're having a baby?" he finally looks up at you and his eyes are welling with tears.

"yes- we're having a-" and your cut off by his lips crashing against yours. His laughter peels out of him as he pulls away.

"were having a baby!"

"wait... you're happy about it?"

"Of course I'm happy about it! You're the love of my life! I want everything with you. The house, the kids the marriage, the dogs the fights, and the stress"

His words make your eyes tear up.

"honey I hate that you were so stressed about telling me you weren't sleeping. I was sitting here, looking at your left hand thinking about how wrong it is that something happened and the doctors didn't immediately call me, that if something were to happen to one of us I never got the chance to put my ring on your finger." His words left you speechless.

"jake... what are you saying"

"I'm saying marry me."

"isn't that supposed to be a question?"

"No. Its a demand, marry me, make me the happiest man, have my babies and marry me and call me out on my shit and shoot me down in the sky I want it all. I know this is so not how i planned to ask you, but please, marry me." You laugh a wet laugh, because this makes sense, you two would get engaged in the weirdest way, and do it all out of order, but you love this man with your whole heart so you embrace the chaos.

"Of course I will marry you" and he kisses you with every emotion he's felt in the last few hours, but you both wouldn't change it. Even if he already has the ring at home in his sock drawer waiting for the perfect moment.

Tag list:

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#jake hangman #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #rooster imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #rooster #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #top gun maverick #topgun #top gun

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bluecollarmcandtf · 10 months

Text

Trying Them on for Size

My stepdad's eyes rolled back as my friend leapt into his body. Thanks to my distraction, he had a clear jump, and the possession was instant. The beer in his hand didn't even slip as a new guy took over the thick hunk of meet.

"Goddamn, this guy is big!" my stepdad's voice rumbled in uncharacteristic glee, "My arms feel like a ton heavier with all this muscle!"

"I...I cant believe it worked," I stammer, still processing the fact that Sam, my best friend, is inside Paul, my jerk of a stepfather.

Sam lifts a heavy arm and takes a whiff. "Wow, your dad smells rank! Does the pig shower much?" he groans and laughs, "What'd you say this idiot does again?"

"Mechanic, and he's not my dad," I answer, still trying to get over my nerves, "How's it feel...to be in him?"

"Man, he's so muscular and dense. I mean, I can feel how heavy he is, ya know? He's like really sweaty and kinda gross too, but I feel like I could beat the shit out of anyone right now!"

Sam takes a swig of Paul's beer, making the body look just like the alcoholic stepfather I knew and hated. Normally, I'd avoid the guy at all costs. He'd usually only speak to me in grunts, and that was only when he wasn't ignoring my existence. Now, Sam was using his mouth to yap off like an excited puppy.

I think Sam notices that I'm still a little tense, because he stops staring at his massive arms and puts the beer down. Paul's body steps right against me and grabs my hands as he looks down into my eyes. My stepdad would certainly never have done this before.

"How you doin, man?" Sam asks, but I can't help but feel like Paul is talking.

"Good," I lie, "This is just so surreal."

"Well, what do you want to see your old step daddy do for ya?" he asks playfully, "The jerk is at your whim, dude."

"I don't know..."

"Come on, sonny boy! Wanna watch as daddy Paul gets on his hands and knees and crawls to you?"

Sam pilots the muscular body to the floor, while staring longingly up at me with Paul's normally hateful gaze.

"Wanna see your big bad old man, stick out his tongue and lick your shoes?"

Before I can react, Paul...I mean Sam...has stuck out his tongue and started dragging it up the length of my sneaker. God, the sight of my harsh stepfather licking my shoe is incredible! He'd be so humiliated right now.

Sam pulls away from my feet and up to Paul's knees, "Maybe he needs to find another way to express just how sorry he is to his favorite boy."

Sam's lips hang open as he inches towards my tenting pants. My heart is racing with the anticipation of getting Paul's lips on my aching cock.

"I'm home!" a singsong voice echoes through the house.

"Shit, your mom!" Sam growls with Paul's hoarse voice, "I mean, my wife."

"Shut up," I snap, "Let's go to your house. We can get an early start to phase two."

My grizzled stepdad smirks, and we sneak out. Phase two involves Sam's biggest bully: his older brother, and he just got off work.

Michael was even easier to distract and jump into than my stepdad was. I may have been a little nervous, but after watching Sam do it at my house, I was practically a pro.

"Woah," I gasp in a much deeper tone than I'm used to, "Your brother is tall."

"Yeah, he was the basketball star before he graduated. Now he just bums around in the basement and beats me up after work," Sam explains.

I have to admit that it's a little weird to hear my friend complaining about getting picked on when he's wearing a super mature and muscular body. Though, Paul does look less intimidating when I see him from the towering height of the stud I'm in.

"Where were we?" I suggestively purr, getting a hang of using this guy's voice.

"Paul was about to apologize," Sam flashes a smile which looks foreign on Paul's face, "But I think you should make Michael apologize to me first."

I chuckle and take a step towards him, but almost stumble over the massive feet I have on.

"Damn, he's clumsy," I laugh, "Your brother deserves some sort of punishment, but what do you want him to do? Drop down and kiss your ass profusely or maybe bend over and take a good beating?"

"Both," Paul's mouth gulps as his calloused hands struggle to hide a growing hard-on.

"Or maybe you want to hear your brother grovel and beg for forgiveness?" I go on, dropping Michael's body to its knees, "Or maybe you can find a better use for this pathetic mouth."

"Shit, man!" I hear Paul's voice whine, "We're definitely going to make these straight assholes screw each other! But then we have to take them out tonight. They need to be put through something more public!"

"Oh I like that!" I moan from inside Michael, "Offer these jerks' bodies up for use at every gay bar!"

"At every gas station!" Sam excitedly claps Paul's hands together.

"They can pound Michaels ass while Paul tongue-polishes their boots!"

"Come here!" Sam growls.

"Yes, sir."

I jump into Sam's arms! Well, Michael jumps into Paul's arms. As electric as it feels, I can constantly sense that we don't own the bodies we are in. We're just puppeteering them.

That thought makes me wonder if Michael or Paul can feel all this somewhere deep down. It's a fleeting thought, because I'm already lost in the experience of making out with the jerk of a stepfather while Sam enjoys playing with his bully of a brother.

God, these bodies are hot. By the time, Sam and I are done wearing them, Paul and Michael will be the hottest pair of messes in town...

#mind control #gay mind control #male transformation #gay ai art #gay possession #body swap #male body swap #body suit #body theft

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deadlynavigation · 1 month

Text

(Little) Intruder Alert

Warnings: mention of weapons/breaking in/mariticide, female pronouns used (lmk if you want a male/nb version!), empty threats

Author’s Note: yall are the best, thank you for being SO patient these past couple months. Send in requests of any kind, even fandoms I previously said were closed. thanks again, love you guys 💕💕

Navigation

“He’s down?”

“Down is a strong word. I kind of just dumped him onto the bed and shut the door.”

Din snorts. “Wouldn’t blame you if you did, cyar’ika.”

You sigh, wandering into the dark cockpit. The lights have long since been turned off for the night, leaving only the bright stars sitting outside the windows to guide you. As you move, they catch on different things, illuminating everything from one of the child’s toys left lying around to your husband’s polished armor. It’s messy, sure, but it provides you with a little comfort after the day you just had.

Speaking of- “The bounty’s been frozen, right?”

Din grunts from his spot in the pilot’s chair. “Yeah.”

You exhale sharply, a weight leaping off of your shoulders. The bounty today wasn’t exactly easy. He had been on the run for weeks now, reportedly heavily armed and off his rocker. No other bounty hunter wanted to chase after that, so of course, you and Din were assigned to him.

“We should probably pick up the pace now that he’s on board. I don’t want the child near him for too long.” You worry, subconsciously picking at a hangnail.

“He’ll be fine, Y/n.” Din’s sleepy voice trails off as you get closer to him. He must have been dozing before you came in, catching up on the sleep that he can no longer afford to lose now that he’s an old man. You have to muffle your laugh with your sleeve. He’s such a dad, taking random naps in spots that he knows will hurt his back while his child runs rampant.

“I just don’t want him to get curious and–” You’re rudely interrupted by Din pulling you into his lap like it’s nothing and wrapping his arms around your waist to make sure you stay put. “Maker, Din. You can’t just do that.”

“Hmm.” Din’s hands slouch to your hips as he melts into the chair again. “Rest, cyar’ika. No more work talk.”

“Din, you know full well that if you fall asleep here—“ He drags a hand up to cover your mouth. Which is unfair, considering you can’t lick the filthy glove, but you’re not strong enough to force him away, either. Instead, you pin him with a glare, trying to burn holes into his helmet.

No words are spoken as he slowly rests his hand against your hip once more. His head is now tilted back, his posture broken, and with you in his lap, it’s only a matter of time before soft snores start coming out of the helmet.

All of a sudden, the peace is broken by a soft whimper in the entrance to the cockpit. Your head snaps over to see a green dot, drowning in his favorite blanket with tears streaming down his tiny face.

“Oh no, baby. Did you have a nightmare?” You coo to the child, rising from Din’s lap and rushing to where he pouts. You scoop him up and wipe his tears from his cheeks, trying to be as gentle as possible so as not to spook him. “Come on, let’s go back to bed and we can talk all about your dream…” Your voice trails off as you climb back onto the lower level of the Crest, to where Din can hear the faint sounds of you settling the child for the second time tonight. He’s left in silence for a good two minutes, settling back into the chair and running through tomorrow’s schedule while trying to keep his eyes open for you.

Eventually, you scale the ladder and make it back to the cockpit with no child situated in your arms. You fall back into Din’s lap where he gladly welcomes you, running his hands up and down your back in a soothing motion.

“He’s down?”

“Don’t you start with me, Din Djarin.” You mumble half-heartedly into his shoulder. He smiles softly, turning his helmet to get a better view of your tired face.

“Ready for bed?” He asks, leaning his forehead against your hair.

“Please. But give it five more minutes–your hands are working wonders right now.” You say in a blissed-out state. He chuckles, adding a little more pressure to your spine.

“Heard that before,” Din murmurs. You snap back up to stare at him, suddenly ready to go all over again.

“I did not just hear what I think I did,” You murmur in awe. His helmet stares at you in a deadpan, yes-you-did manner. You’re seconds away from ripping that helmet off and doing unspeakable things to his face when–

Creeeaaak

Din shoots up from the chair, sending you tumbling to the floor. He pulls his blaster from his waistband in one hand and catches you by the waist with the other, taking on a battle stance to confront the intruder.

But strangely enough, when he scans the room, there’s not a soul to be found.

You’re used to this, though. You grab Din’s chin and tilt his head down, pulling his eyes closer to the ground, until he catches the small green creature at the entrance, this time pulling along one of his many stuffed animals.

“Your turn, baby,” you laugh wearily as Din sighs. He stomps over to the smiling creature, and for the second time that night, the child is carried down the ladder and into his bed. You stand around waiting for Din to come back, knowing that the chair is going to be uncomfortable and stiff without him to sit on. You’ve always wondered how he puts up with it, especially for longer periods of time. Then again, he is a fan of self-imposed suffering.

Finally, Din clambers back up to the top. “Ready for bed, mesh’la?” He questions, barely standing as sleep threatens to take over.

“Yes, but quickly, please. As much as I love him…” You leave Din to fill in the blanks. He nods silently and stalks over to you, hesitating for only a moment before reaching over and hoisting you over his shoulder, subtly shifting you to make sure your abdomen isn’t pressed against his pauldron.

“Din-!” You cut yourself off, not wanting to risk waking the child. However, that doesn’t mean you can’t squirm a little just to let him know that he’s not getting away with this.

“Hold still,” Din grunts, shifting you into a steadier position as he makes his way towards the exit to the ship’s upper floor.

“Din Djarin, don’t you even think about it–” You don’t even have time to finish your sentence before he launches himself down the chute, skipping the ladder entirely. You both land with a thud, pausing for a second to listen for the child’s wails. Nothing.

“I’m going to kill you. You’re going to wake up in the morning, and I’m not gonna be there, and it’s going to be all your fault…” you carry on with empty threats, trying to get a rise out of your spouse as he carries you to the newly-placed bed. The cot directly underneath the child was getting a little aggravating, so you committed to convincing Din of the need for a real bed in a real room. Evidently, your plan worked.

Once the door is open, Din takes the few steps required to get to the bed and unceremoniously dumps you onto it. He doesn’t move after that, taking his time in admiring you, and you swear you can feel the smug little smirk forming underneath that armor. You huff at him and roll over.

“Hide all you want, cyar’ika. Not going to change my plans for tonight.” He turns to the little compartment haphazardly labeled ‘armor’, starting the long process of unclipping, untying, and when he gets impatient, ripping off his beskar. It all gets placed in the correct spot, ready and waiting for tomorrow. Once that’s finished, he heads to the basket you forced him to get to store clothing, digging through folded laundry until he finds some casual pants. Back at the start of your relationship, he would’ve kept looking for a loose sleepshirt, but as time passed and you both became more comfortable, the shirts stayed in the basket.

Din looks over at you and shakes his head. He goes back to the basket, rifling through until he lands on one of his older shirts–a faded gray one, large enough to drape down to your knees. Perfect. He walks over to the bed in a relaxed manner, gets down on his knees to plant a kiss on your forehead without any metal blocking it before smothering you with the shirt. You gasp as he runs away, ripping the shirt off your head and pinning him with an outraged stare. Still, though, you undress and throw the shirt on.

“Stupid husband–in sickness and in health–all lies…” You mumble angrily as he watches on in amusement. “Protector–yeah, ok. Caring, etcetera… should be ashamed, treating me like this…” Eventually, the shirt makes its way onto your body, and you collapse back into bed. Din crawls under the covers as well, pulling you into his chest and covering your face with gentle kisses.

“Done trying to murder me?” You pout, still not giving in to him. He laughs before starting up with the kisses again. One to your forehead, one to each cheek, one to your nose, and finally to your slightly parted lips before repeating the pattern as needed.

“You love it,” He grins, going in for another kiss. You mumble something about mariticide before giving in to him, losing the tension in your back as you wrap your arms around him–

A series of small knocks comes from the closed door. You both gasp and leap away from each other, ready to kill whoever’s escaped your carbon-freezer. The door creaks open, and… no one appears.

You sigh heavily and look down. A small green creature waits for you there, this time two blankets trailing after him. He smiles once he meets your eyes, blinking twice at you.

“Maker,” you sigh as Din flops back onto the bed. You drag yourself to the child, taking him in your arms for what is hopefully the last time as you rock him back and forth in a steady rhythm. His bug-eyes slowly start to close, and soon he is fast asleep in your arms. You sneak back to his little room, laying him down as quickly as possible and shutting the door before nearly sprinting back to Din and, more importantly, your bed.

“Last time. Please, Maker, let that be the last time we see that child tonight.” You pray. Din chuckles, staring at you with those big brown eyes. You’re struck by the depth in them; no matter how many times this man takes off his helmet, bares his face to you without fear of judgment, you will never get used to the striking beauty in every single one of his features. You flop into bed, trying to communicate this with a kiss. Din responds eagerly, pulling you into him with strong and weathered hands that stroke your sides like you’re the last woman on earth.

And all of a sudden, a cry echoes from the child’s room. You almost scream, instead choosing to burrow into Din’s neck, refusing to let go until the cries get louder. Din braces himself for a very unhappy kid, getting up begrudgingly and leaving you with a squeeze.

“I’ll be right back, mesh’la. And then we can continue…” he leaves the promises floating in the room as he leaves you with a squeeze. You watch him go, frustrated beyond belief with the kiddo. Hopefully this not-sleeping stage ends soon.

When Din returns, you are fast asleep, spread out across the bed, blankets tangled under you. All he can do is chuckle and lay across you, falling asleep as soon as his head rests against you.

And that’s how you stay–until a certain child decides to test how loud his voice can go at three in the morning.

#star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x y/n #star wars x reader #requests #stay tuned #din grogu #grogu djarin #baby grogu

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averagewriter-inthedark · 1 year

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Barbie Girl 💄 | Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin Imagine

Takes place before, during, and after the events of Top Gun Maverick

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Barbie!reader (romantic), dagger squad (platonic)

Content warnings: light profanity, fluff | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4.3k

Requested 📨 yes/no (for @kayla-swiftly)

Premise: They say the sky is the limit and anything you set you’re mind to will be achieved as long as you’re dedicated to it. For most people that testimony is nothing but a mere fantasy. But for one woman, with too many dreams to count on her fingers, she took that statement to heart. Proving you can be anyone you want to be and maybe even a few others give or take 😉

Note: Anyone else obsessed with Barbie lately?? Omg y’all I saw the movie last week and absolutely fell in love and i had this request from around the time the final trailer dropped and knew it was the perfect time to write this. I know I know I haven’t been living up to my promise of being consistent but man they having me working my ass off at my job. Also I’ve been traveling and I saw Big Time Rush last night (i felt like a teenager again and it was amazing 😭) anyway I hope you enjoyed this and let me know what you think!

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“Hi, Barbie!” The familiar greeting fills Y/n’s ears as it does every morning she arrives at the hangar. With it comes an instant smile, hand raising to wave at the person responsible for it, “Hi, Phoenix!”

“Hey there, Barbie,” winks another friendly face.

“Hiiii, Hangman,” her tone is playful like his, turning energetic for Bob when he goes, “Hiya, Barbie!”

“Hi there, Bob!”

“Hey, Barbie.” “Good morning, Barbie.” “What’s up, Barbie Girl.”

“Hello, Rooster.” “Good morning to you too, Fanboy.” “Nothing much, Pay. And yourself?”

Unlike her fellow pilots, clad in their deep green flight suits, Y/n stood out in the crowd for hers was a little unorthodox when one thinks of a naval fighter pilot's uniform.

It was pink. Completely as in her combat boots were also the bright color and the patchers were white and pink tones rather than red, blues, black and any other color seen in the ones attached to her coworkers arms. ‘Barbie’ in pink cursive writing instead of traditional bold Times New Roman lettering.

And don’t forget the little flower dotting the ‘i’.

Growing up, Y/n took ‘you can be anyone and anything you want to be,’ quite literally. At no point was it a joke to her when she would tell her friends and family, “oh I’m gonna be a fashion designer and Olympic Gold medalist when I’m older,” “I wanna go to space, fly in planes, and see all the wonders of the world,” “I’ll be a doctor, a teacher, and movie star!” They’d smile and laugh, thinking it was adorable for a little girl to dream big. No way would it be possible to achieve all of those careers. Everyone only gets one life to live and time goes so fast one can only set their eyes on one path and hope for the best.

But Y/n was a dreamer. And if you’re going to dream, might as well dream big.

All through middle and high school people took Y/n’s intelligence for granted. Focusing more on her beauty rather than brains, it came as an under shock to everyone when Y/n had the credits to graduate at the ripe age of 15. Exceeding in her standardized test scores with a high school resume taking up three pages with extracurricular and academic achievements, she had colleges from all over the country begging for her to apply.

Stanford. Cornell. Pratt. Juilliard. NYU. John Hopkins. Harvard. UCLA. Duke. Top medical and law schools. Ivy League universities. Performing Arts schools calling for auditions after sending scouts to watch her perform in school plays and dance recitals. Coaches from high ranking NCAA gymnastics teams sending emails after emails.

So many to choose from….And so the story of Y/n L/n becoming a real life Barbie Doll begins.

Setting her eyes in New York, Y/n attended not one but two of the best schools in the country. While obtaining her bachelor’s in both astronautical and aeronautical engineering at NYU Y/n also completed a two year degree in Fashion Business Management at the Fashion Institute of Technology. During this time she continued training for the Olympics in hopes of making the 2008 Beijing team in gymnastics.

“How do you do it?” Her roommate at NYU constantly asked. “You go from here to FIT, working on two degrees that are completely on opposite sides of the spectrum and career paths,” she emphasized with hand expressions, “and still have enough to time to go to the gym to practice, eat three meals a day, have all your assignments done early, and sleep a reasonably about of hours each night.” Letting out an exhale, her roommate looks at Y/n as if she’s an alien from another world, “What’s your secret? Are you some kind of Barbie doll the government created as a test robot?”

Each time Y/n would pause, think for a moment before smiling, “I don’t know if I should find that as an insult or compliment, but I’m gonna chose it as a compliment and say it’s because I want to live a life where I can look back on and go, ‘I took a risk and tried something new even if it didn’t look possible but it was all worth it.’”

By the time Y/n turned 20 she had accumulated a vast list of credentials to her name. The list included getting her fashion business degree at 17, Bachelors in astronautical/aeronautical engineering at 19–receiving her Master’s for it at 20–An Olympic Gold and Silver medalist, dancing with the Radio City Rockettes, performing with the NYC Ballet Company in their rendition of Swan Lake, landing a role on Broadway, walking a runway at NY fashion week, and appearing on episodes of SVU, 30 Rock, All My Children, Sex and the City, and Ugly Betty.

So yeah, New York was a success in experiences for Y/n.

Following the high note, she packed her bags to leave the golden apple for the flashing lights of Hollywood, California. This time Y/n was working on her doctorates at USC, running her own business with her fashion degree called ‘Dream Closet’, and auditioning for film and tv shows.

Hollywood was a dream come true just like New York. Again she attended two different schools, this time flight school and USC. During the day she was occupied running from class to the hangar and then the observatory. Coaching dance and gymnastics on the side, designing clothes for her online shop which developed into a pop-up chain store in malls across America.

It wasn’t long until Y/n’s name grew into nationwide popularity. People started realizing the Y/n L/n who won the Gold and Silver medals in the 2008 Olympics was the same one responsible for the most recent fashion trends and guest starring on their favorite tv shows. What really set it in stone was when Y/n landed the role of an engineer officer in the 2009 reboot of Star Trek, going on to appear in both the 2013 and 2016 sequels.

Impressive was the only word her costars could use to describe her. What else was there?

Anytime there was a question involving, “who’s most likely to become president?” “Who’s most likely to try something new or create a new hobby?” “Who’s most likely to win a Nobel Prize?” Along those lines…the answer was obvious.

“Oh Y/n,” Zoe Saldana waves her hand, “Always.”

“Yeah,” Chris Pine agrees with a laugh, “That woman, I-I don’t know how one has the energy to do all that she does—a-and still want to do more.”

The Interviewer laughs with them, “didn’t she just race in the Daytona 500 last year?”

“Yes!! And she did a song with Lady Gaga when they were on American Horror Story,” Zoe’s tone is in absolute awe, “All while teaching at USC and creating new technology at NASA.” Chris lifts a finger.

“Don’t forget she had her own Mac Viva Glam line a couple years ago.” Zoe made a sound along the lines of ‘see what I mean,’.

“I’m telling you, she’s gonna be a name in the history books.”

What all has Y/n accomplished career wise? Let’s take a look.

Model, dancer, actor, singer, fashion designer, entrepreneur, athlete, engineer, race car driver, and professor.

And now she can add pilot to the list. Although she got her license to fly way back in 2009, Y/n didn’t put it to use full time until 2016, wanting to wait until after the release of Star Trek: Beyond to say goodbye to Hollywood for the time being and set forth on her next adventure.

Boy did it come as a surprise what she had planned.

The Manila folder containing her resume hit the desk of the Admiral, his eyes wide as saucers. “You wanna join the Navy?” Reading the front page for a fifth time, Cyclone glanced back at the woman in front of him. Doctor Y/n L/n. Or is it professor L/n? “And you wanna be one of my pilots?”

“Yes, Sir.”

”Ma’am, I apologize if this comes off as offending,” he really didn’t know any other way to put it. “But you are more qualified than any person on this base. Doctorates in aeronautical and astronautical engineering from the University of Southern California,” he counts off on his fingers, “you recently developed a groundbreaking advancement in space technology that’s going to help our astronauts—on the road to becoming a Nobel Prize nominee.” He raises his eyebrows, “And this is only what relates to this career field. I’m not even mentioning your acting, athletic, and fashion credentials. Why join the Navy?”

Y/n only offers a shrug, “I think the better question is, why not?” Cyclone lets out a sigh.

“What did you say your callsign was again?”

“Barbie.”

There was no stopping the small smile trying to break free, “I should’ve guessed.”

After completing OTS there was much debate on what Y/n’s rank would be coming into the Navy. Civilian lawyers and physicians often are Lieutenants (O-3) right away, but considering Y/n had two doctorate degrees and her pilot license they felt it was only fair for her to come in as Commander (O-5). From there Y/n was sent to North Island to attend Fighter Weapons School.

Better known to its flyers as Top Gun.

Y/n was used to the looks she received on a daily basis. From head to toe she was covered in variations of pink depending on what she was feeling. When teaching her briefcase and pantsuit were baby pink, in the labs her coat was hot pink, at auditions she wore pink leather jackets. Even her race car for the Daytona was pink.

Shoutout to Mac cosmetics for the sponsorship.

So it’s no surprise her flight suit would be the color she was known for—despite it being out of regulations.

Being more qualified than your superiors had its perks.

If she could have a pink F-18 she would but unfortunately that wasn’t possible. That was okay for Y/n. After all, she managed to get her own custom flight suit. One which had everyone having to do double takes whenever she walked into a room.

“Is she wearing…?”

“How the hell did they allow that?”

“Does that mean I can have mine in purple?”

Her first day at Top Gun Y/n met Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace. They were paired as roommates in the dorms and quickly became good friends. Phoenix was beyond amazed with Y/n’s accomplishments and experiences. Every conversation led to a new discovery. “Do you ever burn out?” Nat stag criss crossed on Y/n’s satin pink bed sheets, admiring her wall of photos from when she traveled to see all the wonders of both the ancient and modern world. “I feel I’d be a walking corpse from exhaustion. And you mentioned you’re still running and designing clothes for ‘Dream Closet’?”

Y/n removed her diamond studs, placing them on her desk she was using as a vanity. “I have a team dealing with the business side of things for the brand. I’m still CEO and creative director—usually I work on designs for a couple hours before bed to prepare for the next launch.”

Nat was in awe, “I have to ask….what’s been the best career you’ve done so far?” A common question Y/n heard, there was never a true answer. She loved every career. They all had their perks and their flaws, but at the end of the day it left her satisfied she achieved them.

“I don’t know yet,” she spoke truthfully, “I still have a few to check off on my list. When that happens I’ll let you know.”

Fast forwarding to 2019, Y/n answered the phone to Admiral Simpson’s voice with the news she needed to report back to North Island for a highly confidential mission. The details were unknown, but Y/n packed her bags, loaded her pink vintage corvette convertible and high tailed it to sunny San Diego.

The squeals initiated by Y/n and Nat the moment she stepped foot in the Hard Deck had heads whipping in their direction. “Hi, Barbie!” Nat’s arms opened for a hug.

“Hi, Phoenix!” Y/n accepted the embrace, still grinning ear to ear. The guys around them were looking at each other like, ‘what the…?’ Y/n wasn’t in her standard Khakis like they were—minus Rooster. She bore a pink denim number with matching boots with her hair curled and pink eyeliner surrounded by tiny rhinestones.

“You got selected too?” Nat complimented her outfit before cutting straight to the point.

“For the special detachment? Looks like it,” she winked.

“What happened to the Artemis program? Weren’t you up as a candidate?”

“Oh I still am,” Y/n affirmed proudly, “They’ll be announcing who’s to be selected in the coming months. So for now I’m still with the Bounty Hunters. Plus,” she leans in to whisper, “this will look good on my resume.” The two giggle before Y/n drifts her gaze to the boggling gazes in front of her. “Oh! I’m sorry for being so rude. I’m Y/n L/n,” extending her hand to the first person who’s name tag read Fitch, Y/n added, “But you can call me Barbie.”

“Barbie,” the blonde holding a pool cue repeated like a question, “like the toy Barbie?” Nat chuckled, throwing an arm around her friend after she was done shaking everyone’s hand as they introduced themselves.

“Fellas, if there is anyone who is a life sized version of Barbie, it’s this one right here.”

“Now, Phee…” Y/n’s tone was that of, ‘Don’t start.’

“It’s true,” the pilot defended. “Not only is she Commander Y/n ‘Barbie’ L/n,” jaws drop, “but she’s Professor and Doctor L/n.” The jaws hit the floor, “On top of founder, creative director and CEO of ‘Dream’s Closet,’” Javy makes a sound, familiar with the brand, “Emmy nominated actress,” Fanboy chokes on his water, “Olympic Gold Medalist and soon to be astronaut for the Artemis program.” By now all the guys are on the verge of losing their minds.

Bob rapidly blinks, “uh—.”

“Now I’m not an astronaut yet,” Y/n points out, “I’m a candidate for one.” Nat scoffs lightly.

“They’d be stupid not to pick you, Barb,” she then slaps her side, turning back to the guys, “Oh and how could I forget Broadway, Vogue, and the Daytona 500.”

“Daytona 500!?” Payback practically screeches.

“You were on Broadway?”

“—featured on Vogue—?!”

“Wait a minute I recognize you from Star Trek!”

“—How in the hell—.”

“Guys, guys!” Y/n laughs with her hands slightly raised, “Please, one at a time.” They were in for a long night of questions and story times. And just like Nat was years prior when she first roomed with Y/n at Top Gun, the officers were in complete amazement over the woman in front of them. Never had they met anyone like her.

“Wow,” Jake whistled once she finished bringing them up to date on her most recent careers. “You really are a real-life Barbie.”

“Shhhh,” a finger went to her lips, followed by a wink, “don’t tell Mattel.”

And thus the dagger squad was formed. Two and half weeks of hell bearing training preceding a face-with-death mission brings people closer. Every morning Y/n arrived at the hangar to a chorus of “Hi, Barbie.”

She waved at Reuben, “Hi Payback.”

“Hey there, Barbie Girl,” Javy threw her a peace sign.

“Hiya, Coyote!”

“Good morning, Barbie,” Rooster tipped his hat.

“Mornin’, Rooster.”

“Hi, Barbie!” “Hi, Barbie!” Her favorite duo harmonized.

“Hi, Bob! Hi, Phee!”

And for some closer than others….

“You know I was thinking,” Jake commented, taking Y/n’s hand before leading her to the pottery class he signed them up for. Every Friday night was reserved for date night. Dinner and a movie. Walk on the beach. Spending $20 worth of quarters at an arcade. Attending a comedy show. Paint and sip. Following the successful mission, Jake and Y/n hit it off and began seeing each other.

“Famous last words.”

“It’s not bad,” a chuckle left his lips, stopping at the door. “I just thought it was funny. You know how you’re basically Barbie?” His cheeky smile resulted in her mirroring it.

“Yessss.”

“This means I’m pretty much your Ken, right?” The question makes the woman visible ‘awe’. Jake ruffles a hand through his hair and gives his best blue steel, “we kinda look alike. Don’t you think?”

Laughing, Y/n kisses his cheek, “I mean…name a more iconic duo than Barbie and Ken.”

“Barbie and Hangman?”

“Exactly.” It was safe to assume what their Halloween costumes were going to be.

Time went on, missions were run. And after a year of anticipation—though it felt like forever, it was finally announced in 2020 Y/n would be one of the astronauts selected to be part of NASA’s Artemis program launching in 2024.

Making Y/n the first woman to go to the moon.

The call came in from a restricted number when they were in a meeting, and knowing she was to expect a call within the month everyone quickly shut up so the pilot could answer.

She excused herself to leave the room, staying in front of the window so the team could see her. Throughout the conversation Y/n’s expression remained neutral to the point none had a clue whether the news was good or bad. Only when she reentered the room did they get the answer.

“I’m going to the moon!!!”

“Ahhh!!!!” The team exploded in an array of cheers, Y/n jumping up and down, careful not to drop her phone that was in her hands when Jake lifted her in his arms.

“I’m so fucking proud of you!” Despite being unauthorized to show pda in uniform, Jake gave her a big kiss on the lips, not caring who saw. “You are the most exceptional human being on this planet.”

“Jake,” tears welled in her eyes, which he kissed away. Her heart filled with warmth and gratitude. Feeling on top of the world with her closest friends supporting her.

Once all calmed down and they finished the meeting, Mickey jumped from his seat, “Come on Barbie, let’s go party!” Everyone sped to the Hard Deck to celebrate the news. Mav bought the first round, followed by Payback.

“Guys you don’t have to do all that,” Y/n said once she realized they all agreed to buy her drinks for the night.

“We want to,” Nat tapped her beer with Y/n’s cocktail glass, the guys voicing agreements. “For years you’ve been dreaming about this and it’s finally happening. Your hard work is paying off and we want to celebrate—show you we love and appreciate you, Barbie.”

Y/n fought back tears, never afraid to show her emotions. Some may find it childish or thinned skin, but to Y/n that was what being human was all about. “I love you guys.”

“We love you!” The voices echoed together.

The night had been going well with the squad hanging out by the pool tables like they usually did when Y/n approached the bar to pick up the next round Mickey was paying for. Not paying attention to those beside her, she smiled at Penny and repeated the order before waiting patiently.

But what’s a night at a bar without someone who lacks boundaries.

“You must be the one they call Barbie,” a voice says, flirtation seeping through the words. Glancing to her right, Y/n recognizes a gentleman from the flight line whose name she could not recall. “You’re quite the talk around base. In fact, weren’t you in some Hollywood blockbuster?”

“Yes,” she politely responds, keeping the answer short. Though she was known to be a sweetheart and kindhearted to anyone she met, Y/n could tell where the interaction was heading toward and did not feel comfortable entertaining it any further. “A long time ago.”

“I’m Lieutenant Paul Billings,” he extended his hand, and she immediately clocked he was trying to show off his rank. ‘Boy he’s in for a treat.’

Not wanting to make a scene, she accepts the handshake. “Commander Y/n L/n,” there was emphasis on the Commander, displaying the woman was of higher rank and therefore a silent warning to Billings to not cross a line.

There was a flash of surprise on his face. Y/n held back an amused laugh, ‘guess you didn’t hear everything.’

“Something the matter, Lieutenant?”

“No,” he brushes it off, “Nothing. Say,” he nods to the bar, “can I buy you a drink.” Did he not just hear her order a round for the people she came with?

“That’s kind of you,” she starts just as Penny arrives with a try full of cold beers and her usual cocktail. “But I’m all set, thank you.” Hands moving to take the tray, she jumps slightly at the feeling of his own coming to her wrist.

“What about lunch this week?”

“I’m sorry but I am spoken for, Lieutenant,” removing his hold, Y/n takes a step away.

Now Paul had lost his reasonable composure. Scoffing, he says, “What? Am I not enough for you?” The question results in her raising a brow.

“I beg your pardon?”

He makes a face, “You think because you’ve done all these careers and occupations that you’re better than the average person? I’m not a pilot and an actor or researching the cure for cancer while creating a documentary series,” venom seeps through his tone, obviously depicting his jealousy, “Basic is not up to your standards, so you have to throw our failures in our face as if we don’t already know.”

By now a crowd has formed. Jake started moving the second he noticed Billings etching too close to his girl, followed by Nat and the others who were ready to back him up. Behind the bar, Penny was fixing to ring the bell until being stopped by Y/n’s wave of the hand.

“Are you done?”

Paul’s expression was that of, “what?” No audible response was voiced therefore Y/n continued.

“Okay, I’m gonna go ahead and say this, Paul,” Y/n drops her shoulder. The change in body language let Jake and her friends know she wasn’t taking anything that the man said personally. “I know I should be offended by your insults and insinuations, but the truth is I’m not.” A small smile forms on her lips, “I don’t view myself higher than anyone because of what I accomplished. The only person I do that to, is myself—because I don’t have to prove to no one but me that I am capable of achieving what I set my mind to. And yeah,” a light chuckle escapes, “I’ve set my mind to a lot of things—way more than the average person. But that doesn’t mean you or anyone else can’t do the same.”

Pausing Y/n takes a breath before exhaling, “You look at me, and hate the way it makes you view yourself. Makes you believe you’re a failure because you didn’t follow the path you hoped to make for yourself.” Paul’s expression shifts to one of solemnity, like he was thinking of his younger self who had dreams and aspirations. Mourning what could have been.

It made Y/n sad for him. Empathetic despite him attacking her. “One thing I’ve learned over the years…is time is what you make of it. Life is about taking risks. You can still set out to do whatever it is you wish, as long as you’re committing to taking the risk no matter how scary it is. Sure you’ll find obstacles and it’ll feel like the whole world is against you. But determination will guide you through the walls, and you will be successful so that you can look back and think, ‘it was worth it.’ As cliche as it sounds,” she couldn’t hold back a laugh, “Barbie isn’t a person or an object you can obtain. Barbie is a mindset. And you have to unlock it in your own way, Paul.”

It was so quiet in the building, a pin could drop and everyone would hear it. Their looks of awe, admiration, and even newfound motivation by Y/n’s speech. Impressed by how classy she handled what very well could have been a scream match between rival squadrons.

Behind Billings the Dagger squad stood with proud smirks at their friend. Especially Jake, who caught Y/n’s eyes and threw her a wink. Nat gave the woman a salute, a silent gesture to say, ‘you inspire me everyday.’

And Billings? Well he was at a loss for words.

Patting his shoulder, Y/n grabbed the tray of drinks, “I wish you luck, Paul.” Thanking Penny, who gave her a proud nod and replied, “this ones on the house,” Y/n returned to her friends where she was met with a sweet kiss from Jake, claps on the back and “You go girl!” “Tell them who’s boss.” “Damn, you made me wanna go out there and live life the way I should.”

“What’s stopping you, Javy?” she handed him a beer, “the world is your playground.”

A couple hours later it was time to call it a night. Hugs went around, promises to meet up the following night and tabs were closed.

On their way out, Jake dropped a kiss to Y/n forehead, pulling her close to him as he led her to the door of the parking lot, “So what’s next for you, doll? You’ve proved you can be anything and anyone you chose to be,” he grins at her, “What will you set your mind to now after space?”

“First, I want to write a book—I think that’s something a lot have been waiting for me to do. Afterwards, well, I’ll have to wait a couple more years, but,” The corner of Y/n’s lips lift up before flashing a dazzling smile, “I’m thinking….the Oval Office is in need of a makeover. Don’t you think?”

Then, before he could answer, Y/n turns her head in the opposite direction as if she’s trying to find a hidden camera. Makes eye contact with you, the reader, winking before turning back to Jake where she sets off on her next adventure.

…………….

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa @artemissunn @pinkpantheris

#Spotify #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin imagine #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #hangman fluff #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick #TGM imagine #TGM fluff #barbie imagine #babrie!au #jake seresin fluff #dagger squad imagine #dagger squad x platonic!reader

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trillscienceofficer · 23 days

Text

from Star Trek: Voyager the official magazine, June 1997

ROXANN DAWSON - B'Elanna Torres

by Ian Spelling

“You never really get used to it,” Roxann Dawson says of the makeup that transforms her into B'Elanna Torres on STAR TREK: VOYAGER. “I've gotten used to having it applied, but I don't think you ever really get used to it. Part of me likes it though. It certainly helps me slip into character and, of course, I'm not recognized at all out of the makeup, sometimes not even on the set.

“I remember that in the first few months we were doing the show, even people on the set had no idea who I was. I would walk right onto the stage without makeup and our own director of photography wouldn't recognize me. Over time, people have seen me out of makeup a little bit more often. So at least the cast and crew are beginning to know who I am now.”

Dawson smiles, which is a big no-no. At this very moment, she's sitting in a chair as a makeup artist glues on prosthetics and paints over assorted Klingon facial ridges. Every time Dawson stretches her facial muscles too much—which occurs when she smiles or laughs—she risks ruining the makeup artists work, and that would only mean more time in the chair. “I usually like to look the person I'm talking to in the eye,” Dawson explains. "But I can't turn my head, either. Use the mirror. I know it's a little weird, but if you look at me in the mirror as we speak, we can make eye contact.”

Clearly, Dawson has held more than a few conversations from this chair, which sits in the middle of a make-up trailer just a short walk from the VOYAGER sound-stages on the Paramount Pictures lot.

Hard as it may be to believe, three years have passed since Dawson first arrived here to play B'Elanna in the “Caretaker” pilot. “It is hard to believe, and it has been a great experience. I've been able to do almost everything as an actress portraying this character,” she enthuses. The other day, they had me rappelling for a scene we were shooting. That was so cool. It's one of the neat things about being an actor. You don't have to know how to do something and you don't really have to practice it. They just had me do it. Of course, I was protected, and a stuntwoman would have done anything that would have been too dangerous for me to do.”

Dawson notes, “We're also learning so much about this character. In ‘Blood Fever,’ we really explored many aspects that were very particular to B'Elanna, but not necessarily particular to Klingons or chief engineers in general. We're discovering that she's not just strong in the masculine sense, but that she can be sexual and feminine and interested in learning more about herself. I talked with Jeri Taylor at the beginning of the season because I wanted to see more of B'Elanna's Klingon side come out. I didn't want her to become too complacent. I wanted her irreverence to always be there. I wanted that war going on inside of her to be present and always a conflict that influenced her choices. I think the writers are making sure that's all there this sea- son.

“I don't want B'Elanna to be a goody two-shoes,” Dawson emphasizes. “I don't mind seeing her darker, uglier sides. That's important. It's part of who she is. It's good to see her at her worst. It's good to see her learn from her mistakes. That's what makes a character interesting. I love that, and I hope it continues.

“You never really get what you want as an actress, but with B'Elanna, I've really gotten a lot of what I had wished for. The writers keep surprising me,” she continues. “They keep coming up with different aspects of her for me to explore. I think to myself, ‘How did you know that was in my hidden agenda?’ That's a wonderful feeling for an actress on any show to have.”

Dawson also believes that the writers are doing justice to B'Elanna's relationships with the other characters aboard Voyager. When the series began, she was primarily presented as an outsider, even among her Maquis co-conspirators. Over time, B'Elanna has emerged as a respected member of the crew. Captain Janeway now shows the utmost confidence in her, and her friendship with Tom Paris seems to be blossoming into romance. “One thing people have to understand is that this is an ensemble show. There are nine regular characters to service every week,” Dawson notes. “I just feel really fortunate that, in such a short time, they've developed B'Elanna's specific relationships with just about everyone on the ship. except maybe Kes. We haven't had much to do together and I would love to have an episode exploring that relationship a little bit more.

"With all of the other characters, though, I have a specific relationship and a definite attitude, and each relationship and attitude is changing and growing. I love thee fact that the Doctor can tick me off so much at one moment, but al other moments there is an element of respect, when he does something that impresses me. For example, when I thought we were losing him and his memory, I suddenly realize that I need him, that he has grown me. I love that every once in a while, we see little windows of B'Elanna's past with Chakotay. Paris and I got very close in ‘Blood Fever’, but I was under the influence of something, I was in Klingon heat.

“I want the writers to keep surprising me. Sometimes I love not knowing exactly what's going to happen, and not figuring it out until I'm handed a script. I really don't know where they're going to go with the relationship between B'Elanna and Paris. I do hope they'll take their time and make it happen slowly. I hope it's original, a little different than what we've seen before. I hope they put in a great deal of friction. I'm sure B'Elanna is different from anyone Paris has ever been involved with before, and would love to see him realizing and dealing with that. I see that all happening, and it really pleases me.”

According to Dawson, she and Robert Duncan McNeill have sat down and discussed the best ways to make the B'Elanna-Paris relationship work for them, how to best add layers to the groundwork being provided by the shows writing staff. By way of example, when they received the “Blood Fever” teleplay, the two discussed the arc of the script and how they saw it as the launching pad for an ongoing relationship. They incorporated their conversations into their performances when the scenes were played out before the camera. 'It really comes down to the actors interpreting what's on the page,” Dawson says. “Robbie and I wanted to make sure that certain elements were there and, also, we didn't want to overstep any boundaries. We wanted to be certain we were doing it right. We do discuss things on that level, but we always have to keep in mind that we must by what the script says.”

Sometimes, of course, Dawson also must go by what her directors say. And the actress has been directed not only by actor/directors Jonathan Frakes and LeVar Burton, but also by her VOYAGER costars McNeill and Robert Picardo. McNeill helmed “Sacred Ground”, while Picardo called the shots on “Alter Ego”. “I had about 30 seconds of screen time in ‘Sacred Ground,’ but I was impressed with what Robbie did. Actually, he's going to direct another episode,” she says. “Bob was great on his show. It amazes me, because you don't always know that an actor will be able to direct. Both of these men are obviously multi-talented, because they're not only fine actors but they managed to direct well, too."

Soon enough, Dawson will find out whether or not she can add herself to the list of multi-talented VOYAGER cast members, for she is enrolled in STAR TREK's director-in-training program, which has turned out such directors as Frakes, Burton, Patrick Stewart and STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE's Avery Brooks and Rene Auberjonois. She's watching other directors in action, sitting in on editing sessions and the like, all in preparation to direct an episode sometimes next season. “There's a great education to be had here and they treat me with such grace. I'm so grateful to have the opportunity to learn this craft,” Dawson enthuses with a smile that elicits a wince from her makeup man.

“I've always wanted to direct. I've directed for theater, but it's quite different from directing for film or TV. I honestly don't know if I'll like it or be good at it. I think the time for deciding whether I'll be a good director is right now, during the learning process. So far, I really do love it. Hopefully, I'll be good at it, too. Whatever episode they give me to do, I just want to be able to bring it to life. Each episode is so different. Sometimes you're handled something that's very action-oriented, and sometimes you'll get something that's very thought-provoking. I don't know which kind of show I would be better at, but part of me says I would be better off starting with a quieter episode. I don't know if I have a particular style that I would impose anything. That was always my goal as a stage director. I'll probably stick with that idea for my first episode."

While Roxann Dawson may go on to make her mark as a director of VOYAGER, she's well aware that, even though she'll likely enjoy a long, fruitful career beyond STAR TREK, the show, her role and the fans will always be a part of her life. "I've heard that. Am I comfortable with it? I guess I'm growing more comfortable with the idea," she acknowledges.

"If this was something that didn't deserve that kind of recognition, then I would feel uncomfortable. But I think VOYAGER does deserve that kind of recognition. I'm part of something special. So, yeah, I guess I am comfortable with the idea STAR TREK being a part of my life forever. Let me put it this way: I'm as comfortable as I could be.”

Focus: Star Trek: Voyager

It has been a long time since Roxann Dawson last looked back at the episodes of STAR TREK: VOYAGER which were either focused almost entirely on B'Elanna Torres or which featured scenes of importance as they related to the character. Thus, the conversation backtracks to October 1995, when “Persistence of Vision” first aired:

“Persistence of Vision” (The crew's deeply buried desires surface; Chakotay seduces B'Elanna): “All I remember from that one was not being able to stop laughing when we were doing the love scene between Chakotay and me. Robert Beltran and I just kept cracking each other up.”

“Resistance” (The crew encounters the Mokra; Tuvok and B'Elanna are captured): “I liked working with Tim Russ. That was the first show where I saw any potential for exploring the relationship between Tuvok and B'Elanna. I realized he could help her explore some of the imbalances in the way she views her Klingon and human sides.”

“Prototype” (B'Elanna reactivates a robot, only to have it kidnap her and try to destroy Voyager) and “Dreadnought” (B'Elanna beams inside a missile to deactivate it): “I worked with Jonathan Frakes and LeVar Burton [as directors] on those two shows. They're both great guys. It's funny, in ‘Faces’ I dealt with myself a lot. In ‘Prototype’ I dealt with a robot and in ‘Dreadnought’ I dealt with a computer that had my voice. So, I was acting with myself in three B'Elanna-heavy episodes. I begged the writers to make the next one something where I interacted with a human. “Jonathan did a great job directing ‘Prototype’. ‘Dreadnought’ surprised me because so much effort went into actually developing the computer voice. That came about through hours and hours of looping. The whole show was B'Elanna and her relationship with this computer counterpart. So, it was fascinating for me to create that relationship half in performance and half in a sound studio.”

“The Thaw” (A clown [Michael McKean] holds Harry Kim and B'Elanna hostage while Janeway tries to free them): “I didn't have a whole lot to do in that. but I thought it was a brilliant episode. It had a lot to say and certain moments were just chilling, especially the death of Fear. Michael McKean was just great.”

“The Swarm” (The Doctor's system overloads and B'Elanna tries to help him recover his programming): “That was a great opportunity to work with Bob Picardo and to explore B'Elanna's relationship with the Doctor. I liked the fact that, to B'Elanna, he had always been just a computer, and in this episode she got to see he had this... humanity.”

“Remember” (B'Elanna has bad dreams; Dawson plays two roles): “I loved having the opportunity to do that show. It was a brilliant script. I loved being able to play the two characters, and how Karenna's [sic] life influenced B'Elanna's. I felt the show had something to say. Bruce Davidson [who played Jareth, Karenna's father] was extraordinary. I've always wanted to work with him. I had known of him since I lived in New York City, and he was just brilliant.”

“Blood Fever” (B'Elanna experiences Klingon heat; she and Paris begin their relationship): “That was an extraordinary experience. It demanded a kind of courage I didn't know I had. I took risks there, and I'm glad I did. I hope people think those risks paid off.”

“Darkling” (The Doctor goes bad): That was our Jekyll and Hyde epsiode with the Doctor turning a little evil. Bob Picardo and I had some fun together when he was in his Mr. Hyde mode. He paralyzed me and he was threatening to kill me and Bob was speaking in a sleazy, very sexual way. It was so disgusting, but I think it came across very funny.”

Though Torres doesn't feature heavily in the next few episodes shot, efforts have been made to develop one aspect of her character. “What's happening is that they've been furthering the B'Elanna/Paris relationship in subsequent episodes. In ‘Displaced’ we have the B-storyline. We did a lot of head-butting in that one. And we did one show where, for the first time, I worked only one day. But the whole day was B'Elanna/Paris stuff.

#voy #trek magazines #star trek monthly #roxann dawson #b'elanna torres

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theclairvoyage · 2 months

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Mermaid Purse - Part 1 of 3

AO3 | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Marine Biologist!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: Summertime in Clearwater, Florida means no school, which means instead of teaching Marine Biology at a local university, you're bartending at The Rusty Sawfish, a bar located on the marina of Clearwater Beach. The owner's friend, who happens to be a sexy, suarthy Texan contractor, moves to town to start over and help his friend with a project, stumbling across you in the process... and you thought summer in Florida couldn't get hotter.

Warnings for Part 1: Minors DNI! adult language, alcohol consumption, sexual tension, reader is female, reader is able-bodied, unspecified age gap, allusions to smut, kissing, groping, mentions of threesomes. Please lmk if I missed anything!

WC: 9k

If Florida was good at one thing besides starring in strange headlines, it was bringing the heat.

Summer had its bags packed and was ready to leave Clearwater Beach. Not soon enough, you thought, as the humid, subtropical heat of late July in Southern Florida drenched your skin in sticky sweat. The salty breeze from the Gulf of Mexico made it bearable, as did the marine life.

You had loved animals as long as you can remember. Growing up in the Midwest, you became acclimated to the four-legged ruminates and vast birds of the region. The closest thing you had to the ocean were stinky, dirt-sand beaches tucked away near state parks and curled highways. Oh, and the occasional zoo. Then grew your zeal for the ocean and the creatures that called it home.

That is, until you moved to Florida to study marine biology at the University of Florida, when that zeal exploded into full-on wonderment.

Some of your fondest memories of university were spending innumerable mornings out on the open sea, tagging sharks, rays, and skates for research. As you learned more about these gorgeous creatures, known in the scholarly world as the elasmobranchs, a feeling of protection grew.

And as always, the more you learned about animals, the more you learned about humans. Some species of sharks have been fished to near-extinction, and over the course of your four years in undergrad, you bore witness to and swore to change that.

Now, as a Professor of Marine Biology at a new college in Clearwater devoted exclusively to the study of marine life, you do your best to imprint that mindset in your students. Though in summertime, when the students are absent, you’re a full-time bartender at a local marina. The double income in the summer is cushy, and it’s a nice change from teaching—not to mention the people watching.

That’s where you’re headed now, at 3:00 PM on a Friday—The Rusty Sawfish. The name is what drew you in, obviously, but the ease and satisfaction of the job are what keep you. The owner, Gil—another marine pun-slash-name—loves having you around, even if it’s only in the summertime. He calls you during the school year to see how life is, and if you can pick up a random shift here and there. A former Air Force pilot from Chicago, Gil spent a good chunk of his midlife in Southern Florida and opened The Rusty Sawfish after retired life bored him.

You turn onto Clearwater Memorial Causeway, a long bridge that connects mainland Florida to Clearwater Beach Island, where the bar is located. You’ve not once grown tired of the view—beautiful, blue-green waters, white sand beaches, swaying palm trees, and endless sunshine. Sometimes, you’ll catch an occasional shark dorsal fin cruising along calmer waters or a bottlenose dolphin breaching at the surface.

The Rusty Sawfish lies in Clearwater Municipal Marina, surrounded by several restaurants, hotels, other bars, and tourist spots. Like many Southern Florida beach cities, the population is a revolving door. You don’t mind it, though it’s not the same close-knit community as your hometown in Nebraska.

You park on the street and stroll up to the bar, shooing some laughing gulls from the sidewalk. The tourists here love to feed them, and they feel comfortable in human spaces. You check your watch—two minutes to spare before you’re “late”, though Gil would never call you out. He’s just happy you’re there.

The bar is one of the few out here that has large, glass garage doors that can open and enclose the place, which gives it an advantage in case of bad weather. The inside is modern, unlike many marina bars that are filled with worn wooden floors and hut-like roofs. The natural lighting inside is beautiful, no thanks to the big windows flanking the front. The long u-shaped bar has enough comfortable space for 4-5 bartenders at once, which is sometimes doubled on busy summer days.

You step in and walk directly to the back office to drop your purse and clock in. Gil, perched in his old desk chair and staring at his ancient computer in the stuffy office, looks up from the screen, readers glasses threatening to slip from the edge of his nose. You chuckle.

“Afternoon, kiddo,” he greets you, smile crinkling his tan, leathery face.

“Afternoon, Gil. How’s it been today?”

“Same shit. Big group of fishermen stopped here earlier and are still here. May need to cut ‘em off soon if they haven’t started laying off the booze,” he groans, scribbling something on his legal pad. A pencil and paper guy, Gil would still be using an old-fashioned book balance if it weren’t for you. Though he understands that electronic bookkeeping is a lifesaver, he’s skeptical of computers—and terrible at using them.

“Sounds good. Just me for a while?” You ask, setting your things in one of the desk drawers and punching in on the time clock. You can’t remember who was at the bar when you walked in.

“Georgia is here, and we got 2 more coming in for the evening. Shaping up to be a great night,” he says, returning to stare dead-faced at the computer. Stifling a chuckle, you nod and exit the office.

Georgia, the lone bartender, is quite happy to see you as she wipes off the countertop of the bar. She’s a close friend of yours—you two met here at the bar several years ago and share a love for the ocean and its creatures. She’s a fresh college graduate and a few years your junior.

“Hey! So glad you’re here!” She squeaks, giving you a quick hug. She’s always been a touchy-feely girl, unlike you—though it doesn’t bother you.

“Rough lunch shift?” You tease, checking the ice bins and refrigerators for stock. She comes up close to your ear and lowers her voice.

“Those fucking old men have been ruthless. I made Gil take care of their last couple rounds because I can’t deal with the catcalling,” she hisses. Before you can scan the bar to eye the table, she stops you.

“Don’t,” she warns, “They had a field day when you walked in. I’m shocked you didn’t notice!”

Curbing the urge to roll your eyes, you nod. “Where are they seated? Maybe we should just give Gil the entire table,” you suggest.

“Underneath the big TV. They insisted on sitting there so they could play Keno and watch baseball,” she groans.

“Ah, yes. America’s favorite pastimes,” you quip. Georgia cackles.

“I’ll stock quick. Need any of the taps changed?” you ask her, grabbing a sticky note and pen by the POS system. Bar preference is to have each new shift stock everything once they clock in, which makes the rest of the day a breeze. Georgia nods.

“I know we’re running low on Miller—that damn table has been guzzling it all day,” she gripes. You giggle.

“I’ll be back shortly,” you say, heading to the back to grab bottles, cans, and change the Miller tap. It’s quick work for you and you’re back behind the counter in ten minutes.

“You ready for a break, Georg?” You ask her, preparing your side of the bar with clean glasses and towels.

“Not yet, maybe in about an hour once Gil is done trying to fill a single spreadsheet on Excel,” she jokes, making both of you laugh. “Plus, I am not leaving you out here alone with those weirdos.”

“Is that one coming up here now?” You tilt your head toward a pudgy, middle-aged, sunburnt man with a ratty Budweiser shirt and an awful sunglasses tan approaching the bar. He’s not stumbling, but the dumb grin on his face indicates that he’s feeling pretty good. Georgia confirms with an annoyed grunt.

“Lovely ladies, can I get a refill of Miller?” He chirps, leaning against the bar countertop and propping his glass up.

“Sure. I’m gonna give you a new glass, though,” Georgia responds, taking the dirty one and putting it in the black bin for used dishes. Budweiser Man groans.

“Aw, I was tryin’ to help you, sweetie,” he says, loud voice enough to curdle cold milk. He snaps his eyes to you.

“Wow. Two gorgeous girls running the bar? I think we’re in trouble,” he jokes, punctuating his sentence with a belly laugh. The urge to rip his ratty shirt off his potbelly and embarrass him floods your system momentarily. You settle for a fake smile instead.

“Sounds like you could use some water,” you joke, still fake smiling at him. Languidly, he tries to pout at you, but the buzz makes the shift in facial expressions difficult.

“Trust me, sir—a day out in this sun, you’ll want water with each drink,” you add, getting a glass ready for him.

“Then what’s the point of the beer, hunny?” he whines. Pet names drive you mad, especially from drunk old men. Patience diminishing by the second, you inhale deeply and fill the glass with water with the soda gun.

“Just making sure our patrons are safe, sir. Want to make sure you’re able to come back,” you respond, handing him a water as Georgia hands him a full pint of Miller.

“Sure thing, gorgeous,” he says, winking at you. Gross. The number of middle-aged men that have flirted with Georgia and you from the other side of the bar is probably pretty high, but most don’t give you the creeps. Georgia waits until he’s back at the table before sneering.

“Jesus, what a fucking creep,” she seethes. “I’d love to spit in his drink.”

“Easy, Georg. Don’t lose it over Porky Pig,” you quip, followed by a boisterous laugh from her.

The night is busy, but smooth. A weekend fishing tournament at the beach brings in tons of salty, sunburnt folks. Two other bartenders, Mike and Rand, come in around 7:00 PM to help with the dinner rush. They’re college kids that double as bouncers, which would’ve been helpful earlier. The annoying table of anglers left around 5:00 PM after Gil warned them that he’d give them the boot if they didn’t start drinking water. Porky and his crew left reluctantly, though not before coming up to give you and Georgia big tips and his phone number scrawled on a receipt.

Just in case you two like to tag team, it said. Both of you suppressed a wave of nausea after reading that.

The bar closes at 2:00 AM most nights during the summer, and from 10 PM-1:30 AM, the bar is hopping. Lots of anglers and tourists flock to the bar for the big TVs and fancy drinks, many of which you helped Gil curate. Around 11:00, you finally get a chance to take a break. Feeling sluggish, you walk over to the nearby convenience store to grab a coffee—caffeine doesn’t do much for you, but it’ll give you the boost you need to reach close.

A can of double shot espresso with cream calls your name, and you’re eager to crack it open. Forgetting to look before leaving the aisle, you bump into something tall and hard. The can falls and busts open on the floor, spraying coffee everywhere. Fuck.

“Oh shit,” you say, realizing that you slammed into some guy. “I’m so sorry!” Quickly, you crouch to pick up the fallen can from the cold linoleum floor.

The voice that responds wakes you up more than any espresso could. “S’alright, miss. You alright?”

You look up from the puddle of coffee and see a good-sized, handsome-as-fuck stranger standing above you. Middle-aged; curly, brown hair with flecks of gray; tan, muscled arms; big hands; warm, calming chocolate eyes. He looks so good that you’re frozen, unable to reply. He cocks an eyebrow at you before a small grin etches his face.

“Uh, yeah—sorry. I’m in a hurry, I didn’t mean to bump into you. I should’ve paid attention,” you respond, panicked. You scan the aisle for paper towels or something to clean up the mess.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll go get an employee to clean this up,” the man assures you, his silky, Southern voice placating you. You stand slowly, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. A slow burn creeps up your neck and cheeks as his gaze sweeps over you.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, and you look up at him just before he turns away. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. His irises are lined with specks of amber, like gold flakes. He almost looks worried.

A few moments later, he returns with an older lady dressed in a convenience store uniform, sporting a fluffy white towel. She smiles warmly at you. Hyper focused on not looking at the handsome stranger, you smile back at her and hold your hand out.

“I’ll clean it, I made the mess. I’d want the same if someone made a mess where I worked,” you offer. Both the employee and the man laugh. She tilts her head at you as if she’s trying to recognize you.

“You work at The Rusty Sawfish, don’t you?” She asks, watching you wipe up the puddle of coffee.

“Guilty. I’m on my break right now, though I seem to have wasted it being an idiot,” you say, and the two strangers chuckle again. The man’s deep, rumbly laugh makes your stomach flip.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, sweetie. You deserve a break! Let me finish and take a can on the house,” she says. Her kindness mirrors that of most residents here—always helping others, stranger or not.

“Oh, I couldn’t. Unless you came to the bar for a free drink. Both of you,” you add, forcing yourself to make eye contact with the handsome stranger.

The way he stares at you makes you writhe. His gaze is captivating. His eyes circle around your eyes and your lips, unmoving—like you’re the only person in the room. Time pauses as you both exchange stares. He’s the first to speak.

“I’ll be there,” he says, half-smirking at you. You forgot about the convenience store employee until she speaks again.

“Late night here for me, but I’ll stop by this weekend! Have a great night, sweetie!”

“Thank you both,” you say, grabbing a new can and waving as you walk backward toward the exit. You don’t miss the way Sexy Stranger watches you leave, but you miss the way his eyes traverse your frame when you turn around.

Shivers blitz your spine as you walk back to work, thinking of how he looked at you. He was one of the most attractive men you’d seen here, which says a lot. Southern Florida beach cities are ripe with hot men from all walks of life. His accent was Southern, but not Floridian—more mainland, like Oklahoma or Texas. Before you can think on it further, you trot back into the bar.

Thankfully, there isn’t a huge rush of patrons. Georgia, Mike, and Rand are moving around behind the bar. You hurry and step behind the u-shaped area, smoothing your hair out of your face. Georgia approaches you, grinning.

“Sorry—I made a complete fool of myself at the convenience store and spilled coffee everywhere, even ran into this sexy guy in the aisle,” You lament, redoing your now sweaty and frizzy updo. She laughs.

“Did you get his number, though?” Georgia asks. “Also, how sexy are we talking?”

You widen your eyes and whistle lowly. “Georg—I’m telling you, he was sexy as fuck. Southern type—tall, dark, and handsome. He said he was coming here.”

She claps her hands together giddily. “Hell yes. Surprised he didn’t follow you right then and there,” she adds with a wink. You roll your eyes.

“Nah, but I’m sure he’ll do that to you when he sees you,” you hypothesize. Georgia is beautiful—typical tan, blonde Florida beach babe with a killer body. She’s bubbly, too, with a personality that matches the Clearwater sunshine, and she’s smart. She shushes you, frowning.

“Um… have you seen yourself? You’re a fucking knockout. How many guys have tried to get us to do a threesome with them? That should tell you everything,” Georgia reminds you. You shrug, unsure how to answer—she’s right.

“That’s what I thought, Miss I Don’t Know I’m Beautiful. Now shut up and help me get the drinks ready for this table,” she says, giving you an air kiss on the cheek. Georg knows how to cheer you up—her sunshine personality is contagious.

Several cocktails and minutes later, you head back to the cooler to restock the bar fridges. When you return, a seat at the bar is occupied with a familiar curly-haired man peering up at the television behind the bar. He’s not facing you, thankfully—the way you froze was embarrassing enough. Coolly, you hoist the bin of alcohol on your shoulder and stride toward the bar. The fridge you need to restock doesn’t face him, so you have some time to plan a greeting while you refill the beers. Georgia pokes your side as she walks up to him, informing you that she knows it’s your sexy mystery man.

“Welcome in! Have you been here before?” She chirps, handing him a menu. He shakes his head and scans the sheets quickly before folding it up and handing it back to her.

“No, ma’am. Was advised to come here by one of the employees,” he croons. You feel his stare boring a hole in your head and decide it’s time to acknowledge him.

Standing up, you face him and hope your cheeks don’t burn bright red. He’s smiling at you, and fuck, that smile is something you won’t forget. Pearly whites on full display, crinkled but twinkling eyes, a salt and pepper beard, and tan skin complement the face staring at yours.

Speak, you idiot.

“Hi again. Glad you made it. I wondered where the coffee smell came from.” Your wit pulls a boisterous laugh from him, one that does something tingly to your insides. Georgia interrupts.

“I’ll take over the stocking while you help this gentleman,” she says, pinching your side as she walks away. The man’s eyes don’t follow her, which surprises you—they’re glued to you. Words exit your mouth before you can ruminate further.

“What can I get you? I take it you’re not a fruity cocktail kind of guy,” you tease, smirking at him. He shakes his head and chuckles.

“Correct, ma’am. Is the whiskey here all you’ve got?” He nods to the shelves behind you.

“Not quite. The owner is a whiskey aficionado and has some reserve bottles in the back that he saves for special customers,” you say, putting a hand next to your mouth as you fake whisper. The lopsided grin returns on his face, sending your pulse into overdrive.

“Would gettin’ spilled on by an employee qualify me as a special customer?” He wisecracks, arching a brow at you. You slump your shoulders in mock defeat.

“I suppose. What’s your favorite?” His jaw ticks back and forth as he ponders.

“Too hard to say. Not a picky guy. Been cravin’ some Eagle Rare,” his velvet voice replies, the soundwaves tickling the hair on your ears.

“I’ll go ask the boss. Be right back.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sexy Stranger replies, watching you leave. Undiscovered by you, he’s turned to watch you walk to Gil’s office, his pulse picking up at what he sees.

He won’t lie to himself—he’s drabbled in some younger women over the years, many of whom were nothing but a one-night stand, a pretty young thing to slip inside and make him feel younger for a few hours. But you’re different. Stunning, yes. Charming, funny, and mysterious, too—like you’re looking at the world from a different dimension. He senses a force field around you, though, one he worries you won’t let him invade.

You step out of Gil’s office with a dusty bottle of Eagle Rare, aged ten years. Gil was astounded that someone requested this, and had he not been contemplating ways to destroy his computer, he’d have joined the Sexy Stranger for a glass.

As you return to the bar, you admire the man’s full head of brunette curls, and the random spots kissed with gray locks. His shoulders are brawny and expansive, pulling taut the flannel fabric between his scapulas. Atop them is a thick, ropy neck, with a jutting Adam’s apple and tan flesh you’d like to sink your teeth into. He was tall, but not overtly so—just enough to complement his muscly build.

The way he leans back in the chair and sees his surroundings exudes a calm tenacity, but the way his eyes smolder suggests a tendency to be ravenous. You wonder if that duality is something he wants to show you. Warmth surges through your veins as you fantasize about a complete stranger, wracking your core and igniting thoughts and feelings you haven’t had in a long time.

Certainly, you’d been with men since moving to Clearwater, and though the options were vast, the likelihood of something lasting was minimal. Thus, you chose to keep interactions with men somewhat superficial, an imaginary arm constantly protruding from you to forbid anything further than flirtatious banter. This attractive, swarthy man, however, had his wrist wrapped around that arm and was threatening to rip it from you—the thought frightened and excited you.

Momentarily, you ignore the rush of adrenaline as you return behind the bar and into his view. Like a magnet, he latches onto you at once, eyes burning your face and figure. Using a damp towel behind the counter, you swipe dust off the bottle and set it in front of him.

“Here you are, sir. One dusty bottle of Eagle Rare.” Sexy Stranger smiles at the bottle, wrapping a large hand around the base and examining the label.

“’S the good stuff,” he murmurs, voice dropping deeper than you thought possible. The pitch twists your insides. In an effort to subdue your racing mind and pulse, you force a smirk and start wiping off the counter.

You feel the man’s eyes snap to you, melting your resolve with a fiery intensity. Suddenly, you’re unable to continue moving the towel, and resign to meeting his eyes. Smoldering is the only way to describe the way he’s looking at you.

That familiar rush of heat wraps around the base of your throat and underneath the fabric of your now-suffocating, loose tee shirt. Instinctively, you fiddle with the collar and pull it down slightly, trying to let out some of the hot air trapped inside, unaware of the fact that you’ve exposed some skin to him. In any other situation, it would’ve been a harmless gesture, but here, it only spurs on his imagination. His pupils dilate ever so slightly at the sight of your collarbone, complemented with a silver pendant necklace.

“What’s that necklace you got there?” Sexy Stranger asks. Involuntarily, your fingers latch onto the shark charm and twiddle it back and forth. He’s still watching.

“Oh, it’s a shark. Can’t remember the last time I took this thing off—I forget about it,” you say, surprised that you can form coherent sentences right now under his hot gaze.

He makes eye contact with you and raises an eyebrow. “Why a shark?”

“The short version is that it’s my favorite animal.”

He tilts his head at you, jaw ticking again. Your eyes latch onto the strong muscles moving it back and forth, flexing underneath his temples.

“And the long version?”

You cock an eyebrow, mirroring him, and grab a short glass, placing it on a coaster in front of him. “Before I delve into that, how do you like your whiskey?”

He chuckles, deep and rumbly. “Neat, sweetheart.”

The pet name eviscerates your stomach. You gulp without meeting his gaze, aware that he’s staring at you still. You pour him a perfect glass of bourbon neat and push the coaster toward him. As you let go, he reaches for the glass, fingertips brushing the tops of your fingers.

As if you touched the metal prongs of a plug, you whip your hand back. The feeling of his skin on yours was nothing short of electric. He misreads your reaction.

“Sorry ‘bout that, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says, brown eyes no longer smoldering but concerned.

“Oh no, it’s not that, just wasn’t expecting it,” you stammer, not wanting to give him the wrong idea. Ironic. He lets it pass, for now.

“So—the long story?” He takes a generous sip of the amber liquid, swishing it around his mouth as he watches you. You place your palms down on the counter and smile at him.

“Long story is I’m a Professor of Marine Biology at a local university here. I’ve been studying sharks for a long time now. They are beautiful, brilliant creatures that have evolved to near perfection. I do what I can to protect them—they have been fished relentlessly.”

Sexy Stranger is in awe of you, struck by your eloquence, intelligence, and beauty. He takes another sip, never dragging his eyes from yours.

“Wow,” he says, raising both eyebrows as he sets the glass down. “Just one question.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. The two of you are getting good at this nonverbal communication.

“You consider that the long version?”

His humor catches you off guard and a goofy, boisterous laugh escapes you. For the second time now, he flashes a full smile at you. He likes that sound.

Suddenly, a phone rings nearby. He frowns and fishes a small, old iPhone from his front jeans pocket and squints at the screen. He grimaces as he stuffs it back, shifting uncomfortably in the chair to make it fit.

“Sweetheart, I need to run. Lemme settle up for the glass,” he says, the pet name stimulating your pulse again.

“Sure thing. Gil said to come back any time—the bottle is basically yours,” you say, winking at him as you print his receipt. His heartbeat does some racing of its own at the gesture. He tears his eyes from you to fish for his wallet and throw some bills on top of the receipt.

“Will do. I’ll see you around, darlin’,” Sexy Stranger says as he stands, giving you a small wink as he leaves. You watch him leave before realizing you didn’t cash him out. You grab the cash and receipt, noticing what looks like writing on the back side.

A phone number is scrawled on the back. Underneath is his name. Joel.

Your heart stops as you stare at the small white paper. When did I even give him a pen? I didn’t notice him writing. Georgia startles you with an elbow to the side.

“That was quick,” she teases. Bashful, you fold the receipt up and shove it in the pocket of your jean shorts.

“Shut up, Georg. He was just being nice. Probably wants tips for shark watching or something.”

She stares at you incredulously. “Girl… he’s so fucking into you. Everybody in this building felt that tension.”

Heat creeps up your spine once again. You check the POS system for the time and see that it’s almost 2:00 AM. Time to close and do it all again tomorrow.

“Let’s get something to eat. Wanna crash at my place?” Georgia asks. You nod, finding that you’re hungry—but something tells you it’s not food you’re craving.

Sunlight bounces off the white walls of Georgia’s apartment just before 7:00 AM. A light groan escapes you as you stretch out on the plush sectional in her living room before settling back into the burrow of blankets.

Georgia lives a quick five-minute drive from the marina, in a lofty one-bedroom apartment with an ocean view. Her family is generationally wealthy and based in Sarasota, Florida—hence the high-rise apartment and a nice Mercedes SUV. She escaped the clutches of her uptight family to explore her passion—surfing. She got a job at The Rusty Sawfish to supplement her allowance and pay for surfing gear and tournaments, something her parents refused to do. You two clicked immediately and have been friends since.

Pulling your hoodie up over your head, you check your phone quickly before deciding whether to go back to sleep. It’s still early, and you didn’t get to sleep until after 3:00 AM. Your stomach backflips when you see a message from an unknown number pop up. The nerves turn to giddiness as you remember that the number belongs to Joel, the sexy stranger you met at the convenience store last night. You messaged him when you got to Georgia’s apartment last night asking if he made it home alright, certain he wouldn’t be awake to respond. You swipe down to read the message.

Joel: Morning sweetheart. I made it home just fine. Was hoping you’d text sooner so I could ask the same. :)

Kicking your feet like a child, you contemplate a response.

You: Sorry I texted so late! I didn’t make it back to my friend’s place until close to 3.

Joel is quick to respond.

Joel: Surprised you’re up. Figured someone as pretty as you would need at least 8 hours of beauty sleep. By the way—your friend told me your name. I hope that’s OK.

Grinning at your phone, you shake your head slowly. The man is as charming over text as he is in person.

You: You flatter me. I was just going to go back to sleep given that I currently look like a hobbit—guess 8 hours is exactly what I need ;)

You: And yes, that’s okay. Sounds a lot like my friend. She’s a good wingman.

Joel: I highly doubt you look anything less than gorgeous. Get some rest. We’ll talk later today.

Pretty. Gorgeous.

The grin doesn’t leave your face as you drift back to sleep.

Later that evening, you’re behind the familiar u-shaped counter of the bar with paper-thin patience and a penchant for kicking out a rowdy group of college age anglers from the tournament.

“Look, I have a legit ID and I’m an adult, I can drink however many beers I want!” A gangly blonde trust fund-looking kid from the group whines at you. You narrow your eyes at him briefly before responding, like a snake ready to strike its prey.

“Not how it works. It’s the bar’s best practice to avoid overserving and keep this a safe place for everybody. Drink some water and we’ll revisit,” you reply, voice stern. You squeeze the towel in your hand for stress relief.

Though Florida has a dram shop law that prevents bars from being sued by an intoxicated patron that ends up drunk driving and getting hurt, Gil has always mandated a no overserving policy. Spending all day out in the ocean and then drinking heavily is a dangerous combo. The older patrons have no qualms about it, but the younger, rowdier crowds differ. Blonde kid sticks his index finger on the counter and leans in close to you, bloodshot eyes fixated on yours.

“I want your manager,” he spits, breath reeking of booze. Still somewhat level-headed, you stare directly in his eyes.

“You got it,” you respond, emotionless. Gil’s not one for overserving, and he’s not one for rude patrons harassing his bartenders. This dumb kid has a lesson coming.

Stone faced, you drop your towel and tell Georgia you’ll be right back before cruising to Gil’s office. The door is wide open, and to your surprise, Joel’s sitting in the chair next to Gil, the two of them chuckling and conversing. Your heart falters momentarily before you remember why you came back here. You knock lightly on the open door and both men look up at you.

Gil frowns immediately. He’s seen that look before.

“Not a good sign when my best employee has that look on her face. Where is he?” Gil asks, standing and removing his readers. Feeling Joel’s eyes burning holes in you, you do your best to ignore them right now.

“Up front. Blonde kid with the frat group. Pissed off that I won’t pour him a 5th vodka red bull. I told him about our policy, and he asked for the manager,” you recite, tight-lipped. Gil nods, squeezing your shoulder lightly as he walks past you to the bar.

Thankful that Gil is handling it, you close your eyes and exhale heavily before remembering you’re not alone. Your eyes open quickly to find Joel staring at you. His eyes look concerned, though there’s that damned lopsided smile on his face.

“Guy’s got some balls on him,” he jokes, standing and taking a step closer to you. Your pulse quickens. Laughing, you roll your eyes and wave him off.

“Everybody does when they’re drunk.”

Joel rakes a hand through his stubble and nods, studying your face.

“I reckon I wasn’t totally honest with you last night,” he says, face falling slightly. Raising an eyebrow, you try to quiet the thousand thoughts that rush through your mind—is he going to say that he’s married? Fresh out of prison? Gay? Well… the last one is unlikely. He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as he continues.

“I’ve known Gil for a long, long time. S’why I knew there’d be Eagle Rare here,” he says.

Relief rushes through you. “Jesus, Joel. I thought you were gonna tell me you were married.”

A hearty laugh escapes him as he shakes his head fervently, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Hell no. Haven’t been married since I was in my early 20s, which was about a million years ago.”

You wipe your brow exaggeratedly, signaling your relief. Joel chuckles again.

“So, what brings you to Clearwater, then? Or have you always been here?”

“No, no. I’m from Texas. Been here several times but moved here last month. I’m a contractor and Gil and I have worked on some projects together. He wants my help f’another one.”

It all makes sense—the flannel shirt, the muscles, the demeanor, the accent. A question pops up in your mind.

“Does he know you gave me your number last night?” You ask him, tilting your head inquisitively.

“Yes, ma’am. We’re good friends. He’s protective of you, but I made it clear t’him that I ain’t tryin’ any funny business with you,” he admits, smoldering eyes affixed to yours. His expression and tone gives you the impression that he’s telling the truth, like lying to you would be worse than anything.

“Are you saying… you don’t often give your number to bartenders that spill coffee all over you?” You chide, flashing a smile at him. His pupils dilate imperceptibly.

“No, ma’am. Don’t make that kinda thing a habit,” he responds, taking a step closer to you. Your breath catches in your throat at his proximity. He’s within arm’s reach, and the magnetic field between the two of you is sending your internal compass off the rails. He opens his mouth to say something, but Gil interrupts the moment, oblivious to the two of you.

“He’s taken care of. Thanks for dealing with him,” he sing-songs, saying your name warmly.

Still staring at Joel, you reply to Gil. “Appreciate it, Gil. I’ll return to my post.”

Joel laughs quietly, eyes twinkling at you. You smile coyly at him before leaving the office, needing to cool off before you explode internally. The sexual tension between the two of you is almost too much to handle.

Before you can check if he’s following you, Georgia flags you down behind the bar. A devilish smile plays on her tan, freckled face.

“So… he’s back,” she teases, waggling her eyebrows. “You taking him home tonight or what?”

Jaw dropping in mock shock, you tilt your head at her.

“Are you suggesting that I sleep with him? Georg—I don’t know him!”

She guffaws. “Gil knows him very well, though. Isn’t that enough to tell you he’s safe? I bet they watch boring carpenter shows together and spend all their money on fancy old man bourbon.”

Good point. Joel seems safe—for now. But you’ve been out of the game far too long to half-ass a night with a man like him. He seems… experienced. And the glint in his eyes when he sees you is enough to make your heart jump out of your chest.

“I don’t know. I’m interested. I’ll keep an open mind. Sounds like he’s in Clearwater for good… plenty of old beach babes to take him on,” you joke, winking at her. She punches your arm.

“He doesn’t even look at anybody but you, dipshit. If you say something like that one more time, I’m gonna tell him,” she threatens half-jokingly, pointing a polished finger in your face.

“Fine. We’ll see where it ends up,” you surrender, checking the fridges for a routine restock.

The remainder of Saturday night at The Rusty Sawfish is busy, but not overwhelmingly so.

Georgia, Mike, Rand, and you man the bar, which had no empty chairs the entire evening. Business was booming from the fishing tournament, and even Gil stepped out of the office to pour some drinks.

Joel made himself comfortable at the end of the bar. Gil dumped stacks of blueprints in front of him, and he got busy reviewing them while nursing glasses of neat bourbon. You couldn’t count the number of times you two exchanged glances and shy smiles, and he couldn’t count the number of times he caught himself staring at you. He was entranced by the way you moved at the bar—commanding the flow of customers, making drinks at lightning speed, being friendly with the customers, and looking damn good while you do it.

Closing time rolls around yet again, and he’s still scanning blueprints, sketching on pages here and there with his carpenter’s pencil. Every so often, he’d tuck it behind one of his ears, mussing some of his curls in the process. You found yourself studying his mannerisms, trying to get to know him without speaking. He’d tick his jaw back and forth as he read, and the corner of his lips would twitch each time he marked the page with his pencil, salt and pepper mustache hairs grooving along with them.

You learn from the way he holds the page out three feet in front of him to read small text, brow furrowing as he deciphers the letters, that he’s stubborn and not ready to buy reader’s glasses. You catch yourself giggling at it, making damn sure he doesn’t see.

You learn that he was likely a former athlete by the way his hips sway when he walks to the bathroom, his gait controlled yet energetic and limber, the denim of his very-worn jeans hugging his strong legs. The jeans indicate that he’s not much of a shopper and is loyal to what makes him feel comfortable, like a pair of faded, almost-torn bootcut Wranglers molded to his frame and creased leather cowboy boots.

You learn that his body is still in wonderful shape as he folds his arms behind his head and arches his back to stretch his aching body, revealing a sliver of soft-looking skin above the denim waistband and a trail of dark hair leading from his belly button down beneath.

You learn that he enjoys hearing your laugh with each time he tries to prod it out of you with a silly joke or a wisecrack about one of the customers. Given the manner and frequency with which his eyes travel up and down your frame, he also likes your body—from the subtle shelf of your breasts underneath your tank top, to the shape of your ass in your frayed jean shorts, to your smooth legs. But he likes your face, too—evident by the way his amber eyes travel over your features, landing frequently at your eyes and lips.

Now, you can tell Georgia she’s right—that he fancies you, more so than any other woman that glanced at him twice during the night. And boy, there were plenty.

Most of all, though—you learn how much you want him. If not obvious by the butterflies bouncing off the walls of your abdomen and chest as he speaks to you, it is clear when you take a bathroom break of your own and find dampness in your panties. Your nerves are in overdrive at the possibility of finding out what his hands feel like on your skin, what his lips feel like meshed with yours, what his strong frame feels like flush against yours.

Needing cool relief, you soak a paper towel in cold water and place it on the back of your neck, shivering at the stray droplets that roll down your spine. You stare at yourself in the mirror and start to realize that maybe Georgia is right about you, that you are beautiful and worthy of feeling that way.

You exit the bathroom to find that it’s now past 2:00 AM, and customers have left—all but Joel. He’s standing now, elbows leaning against the counter. He notices the air pressure change from the bathroom door opening and turns to stare at you as you approach him, eyes sweeping up and down your figure once again.

“Sir, we’re closed. Have you paid your tab?” You ask, half-smiling at him. He laughs as he fishes his wallet out of his jeans pocket.

“Gettin’ there, sweetheart,” he says, grunting as it finally comes out of its enclosure. The wallet is about as worn as the jeans, faded and bent at the corners. He hands you several twenty-dollar bills, a few too many for his sixty-dollar tab.

“I’ll get your change,” you say, muscle memory taking over. He puts a hand up.

“No, keep it. You deserve it,” he murmurs, tucking the wallet back in his pocket and gathering the blueprints for Gil.

“Joel, it’s too much for what little work I did tonight,” you protest. He looks at you, eyes smoldering once again.

“No, darlin’—you did a lot more than you think.” The tone suggests he’d been imagining you the same way you did him, sending a zing of shivers up your spine. You know your cheeks are reddening, but you ignore it as you balance the drawer for the evening. Joel trots back to Gil’s office to return the papers, resurfacing after a few minutes.

Georgia, Mike, and Rand have finished cleaning and their closing duties. They stop by the register to check in on you.

“Hey—there’s a party at Mike’s neighbor’s house. You in?” Georgia asks, knowing full well you’re not going to agree. You can tell she’s trying not to smirk.

“No, thanks. I’m exhausted,” you reply, dividing up the tips. “Here you go, tips for tonight. Great job.”

“Well, you better come to the one next week—you can’t use this excuse again,” Mike teases you, elbowing you lightly.

“I’ll be there, just not feeling it tonight. Thanks, guys,” you say warmly, hugging Georgia as they prepare to leave.

“Oh, we rode together—are you good taking an Uber? I was going to ride with these guys,” she asks, loud enough for Joel to hear.

“I can walk to my car. It’s only a few minutes.”

Joel interrupts. “I’ll take ya. I’m sure y’feel safe out here, but it’s late and dark.”

Georgia takes this as her cue to leave. “See you tomorrow, love!” You wave as the three exit, leaving Joel, you, and the magnetic sexual tension between you.

“You sure about this? Really, it’s not that bad of a trek,” you ask him, not wanting to be a bother. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“I’d feel better f’you let me make sure you’re safe, and y’just said y’were tired,” he says lowly, voice dropping in decibels to match the now-quiet atmosphere of the bar.

“If it helps you sleep at night, sure,” you joke, winking at him. A yawn interrupts your comedic routine, to which Joel raises his eyebrows.

“How ‘bout I just drive you home, sweetheart?” He suggests. A wave of fatigue hits you as you finish yawning, and you surrender.

“Good idea. Let me get my stuff.”

You emerge from the office after retrieving your purse and saying goodbye to Gil, who has resumed trying to figure out Excel. Joel watches you approach him, rubbing his beard distractedly.

You lead him out of the bar, the nervous energy between you making your legs feel restless. Joel places a hand on your lower back as you push the doors open. Once outside, you expect him to move it, but he doesn’t. It stays warm and firm on your back as you two walk down the marina to the street parking area.

The sound of the waves crashing into the shore placates your nerves a bit. You peer at them as you walk, bewitched by the rays of moonlight dancing on the subtle peaks.

“S’a beautiful night,” Joel murmurs, closer to your ear than you realized. You jump a bit, and he chuckles quietly, rubbing his hand softly on your lower back.

“Sorry, didn’t mean t’scare ya,” he apologizes. The cool beach breeze blows by, and goosebumps grow on your bare skin. You rub your arms instinctively. A few moments later, Joel places his flannel over your shoulders, squeezing the tops lightly before letting go. The warm gesture makes those butterflies in your stomach ricochet like pinballs.

“Thanks. It’s cooler than normal this evening,” you say, watching your feet as you continue walking. The scent of his shirt engulfs your senses, slowing your pace momentarily. It’s an alluring mix of earthy and musky, like sandalwood, pine, and sweet bourbon.

“This is me,” Joel says, stopping next to an older, beatdown Chevy truck. He opens the passenger door for you.

“Didn’t realize you were such a gentleman, Joel,” you tease him. He shuts the door lightly, smirking and shaking his head at you through the window. You glance at your surroundings.

His truck is spotless, save for some stains on the floor. There’s a cup of carpenter’s pencils in one of the cupholders, which makes you smile. The radio is ancient, with a small, thin screen for the time and big black buttons, which are a bit dusty. The only button that’s clean is the power button/volume knob duo. Not much of a music guy, you think.

The driver’s door squeaks open, and Joel plops down on the seat with a grunt. He shoves the key in the ignition and turns it over a few times before the engine roars on.

“Where to?” he asks, cranking the truck into reverse and pulling out of the spot. You direct him to your apartment, which is 10 minutes from the marina.

The ride to your place is quiet, but not awkwardly so. Joel turned on the music and kept the volume low, asking you questions here and there about Clearwater and you.

“Your family here?”

“Nope. I’m from the Midwest. They’re all in Nebraska and Iowa.” He whistles lowly.

“Bit of a drive. Why Florida? Lemme guess—the ocean?”

“That’s part of it,” you reply, staring out the window, watching the palm trees flash by.

“Take it y’also wanted to get away from your family,” he says, tone rhetorical. You snort and turn to face him. He’s got one hand on the wheel, the other perched on the back of your seat. There’s a half-smirk on his moonlight-painted face.

“Am I that obvious?” Your tone is half-incredulous, half-rhetorical. He chuckles in place of responding.

Soon, you arrive at your apartment complex. Joel opens your door and follows you to the building. Hesitant, you stop just before entering and turn to him. The tension is thick, like a hazy cloud between the two of you.

“Do you want to come inside?”

He clenches his jaw, staring at you before replying.

“Sure. Y’gonna take advantage of me?” The witty remark catches you off guard. You burst out laughing and the contagious, melodic sound makes him laugh.

“Only if you want me to,” you reply, holding your keys up to the pad and opening the door. You swear you hear him growl behind you, but he doesn’t reply.

Luckily, you’re on the first floor. You don’t think you could stomach walking up the stairs in your daisy dukes with Joel behind you.

Once inside your place, you open the fridge and grab two bottles of beer as Joel surveys the apartment. You place one on his bare forearm, the sudden chill startling him. He swipes the bottle from your hand as you giggle, giving you a threatening look.

“Want to sit outside? I have a little futon out there,” you offer, realizing you still have his flannel on. The sleeves are a little long, touching the base of your knuckles. He nods. You grab a blanket from the couch and lead him to the sliding glass door in the kitchen.

Your patio is small, but it’s your favorite spot, overlooking the beach. The apartment building is on a small hill, which is great for days when the sea level rises. The waves are still crashing quietly onto the shore, bathed in silky moonlight.

You sit first, crossing your legs underneath the warm blanket. It’s chilly without it. Joel sits next to you with what you now know is his trademark old man grunt, denim-clad leg touching your knee. He takes a swig and brings the base of the bottle to eye level to study the label.

“Sorry—no bourbon,” you lament jokingly, taking a swig of your own. He smirks and takes another sip.

“Didn’t strike you as the type, anyway.”

“Is it the lack of facial hair?” Joel spits out his beer laughing.

“Jesus, you’re somethin’ else,” he coughs, wiping his mouth and beard with the back of his hand.

“In Joel speak, I think that’s a compliment, yes?”

He laughs again, staring at you as you watch the ocean. His hand moves to rest on your kneecap, thumb circling the soft skin lightly. Your heartbeat picks up twofold.

“Gil was right about you,” he murmurs. Confused, you look at him, surprised to see a wanton expression on his face.

“What about me?”

He scoots closer. Your hands squeeze the beer bottle nervously.

“Don’t remember exactly what he said,” he croons, face getting closer to yours, “somethin’ about you bein’ a special person.”

The sexual tension between the two of you has reached a new level of heavy, sucking the air out of your lungs and igniting your core. Joel grabs your beer from your hand, setting it and his down on the concrete floor of the patio. He stares into your eyes, looking for hesitation as he leans closer to you.

Clearly, he finds none, because his lips are on yours, light and soft. The hand that was on your knee is on the back of your neck, thumb pressed against your cheek. His other hand grips your hip and pulls you closer to him. You take the opportunity to climb on his lap, pulling a surprised yet satisfied grunt from him.

His lips move slowly, gently against yours. Rough, warm hands caress the tops of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their path. He tastes smooth, like the Eagle Rare he sipped on this evening, a rich contrast from the rough scratch of his mustache and beard against your face. You comb fingers through his thick curls, tugging lightly at the base of his head. Another satisfied grunt travels from his throat to your mouth.

The passion overheats you, and like he’s reading your mind, he pushes his shirt off your shoulders, mouth still latched to yours. His hands slip under your tank top and caress your abdomen, fingertips dancing along the underside of your breast. He groans again when he realizes you don’t have a bra on. You tilt your head back and his lips caress your neck, nipping softly at your pulse. The soft moan that leaves your lips spurs him on, and his teeth move higher, tugging on the flesh of your earlobe.

He reaches for the hem of your tank top and slowly lifts the fabric over your head. His eyes burn holes in your skin, pupils dilated so much so that his eyes look black. He reaches up and palms both of your breasts, kneading the flesh and rolling your nipples between his fingertips as he admires your body.

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he breathes before sucking a nipple into his mouth. You wrap your arms around his strong neck and tug his curls back to envelope his mouth with yours. He lifts you from his lap effortlessly and stands, murmuring something about going back inside into your mouth.

Still kissing you, he carries you to your bedroom and tosses you on the bed before caging you in his arms, continuing what you started on the patio as the sound of the ocean and the cicadas fill the background.

Taglist: @burntheedges, @tuquoquebrute, @syd-djarin, @danaispunk, @anoverwhelmingdin

Read Part 2 here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #mermaid purse

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mav3nrick · 2 years

Text

Let’s burn the world down together | Namor X NonHuman!Reader

Namor the Submariner x nonhuman!Reader

Context : Talokan and Wakanda are on the edge of waging a war on. They are not the only hidden realms ( before Wakanda reveals itself to the world). Your realm has been hidden as well, scattered across the world. Centuries ago, the most powerful nations decimated your kind, only for you and your people to hide underground. Your people grew tired of hiding, angry for revenge. Maybe, the sake of the princess will gladly lead you to join the war. Will your hunger for revenge be stronger than one of the most powerful forces this world has borne ?

Counts : 5 444 words

Warning : Black Panther 2 spoilers, self-hatred, overthinking, smut, soulmates, english isn’t my mother tongue, so there must have some syntaxes or spelling mistakes i apologize for it,,

Your people are quite some sort of spies. You were always hiding from the surface world as you called them. They took you everything : your lands, your home, your trees, your ressources, your everything. For centuries you have lived underground waiting for the moment you will reveal yourself again. For centuries, the surface world has believed your people were only legends but now with all these superheroes crossing the whole world and coming from the universe, things dramatically changed. Your time has come.

Night visions to see through your realm galleries and pointed ears to hear far away. Your people might be one of the fiercest Mother Nature has borne. You were nightmares on your own. Dangerous fighters you were. You were fearsome of your own. Pretty lullabies about your kind when you could kill for fun, only to see the humans suffer as you have suffered for centuries.

Your people’s name has been rumored all over the world in fantasy books. But one must know you were real. This is mostly one of the reasons she came to you. You thought you had been careful when you came to the surface world but unfortunately for you, she had found you too easily for your people’s sake. You only can be mad at yourself for that terrible mistake. You should be more precocious. You have always known that. Your head advisor would remind you that everyone knew this kind of mistake would have happened and you’d have just rolled your piercing eyes again and again. You had heard those words too much for your own good. You were reckless and couldn’t care less. No one could stop you when you had a goal to score. This thought mostly made you smirking.

Your new goal was to discover more lands than you had done in the last five centuries. This is why you were on that aircraft. This thing from hell made you quite sick. Well, this was your first time and your pride self couldn’t allow anyone to notice it. To be honest, your friends knew what was going on and you could see her face being crossed by that mocking smile. They were holding their laughs. You were about to break the bench as your hands held it too strongly for its own good. Your eyes were sending gentle dead threats to your friends. You hated that fucking plane.

“ We have arrived, Princess. “

You hear the pilot talking to one of your friends. Shuri seemed relieved to finally land on her motherland soil. Your eyes were shocked by the magnificentness of the place. Stars crossing your sage green eyes. This was way beyond what you could ever have imagined. It is far away from the old and dirty galleries you lived in. You knew some of this world's inventions when you walked incognito on the surface world. You had already come into these places they called libraries. You read books about everything that could be useful for your people to know. It was mostly about weapons, technologies and wars. This is what your people live now. Even if you were hiding for centuries, waiting for your time to come. You had never been at peace since that day. You may have barely known your former realm but from what the elders say it was beyond everything the world has seen. Golden trees, magic in its purest form living through every being, harmony and peace all over your realm until the humans’ population grew too much. They were your enemies the moment they crossed your realm’s borders. War destroyed everything as it has happened in Wakanda.

Shuri had explained to you the whole situation with that Namor guy. You were on her side as she came to reach you first. To be true to yourself, you understood Namor’s point of view about the surface world. No doubt you would burn the world down too. Will you let someone else take your biggest dream or will you join him ? No one knows. You wanted to know what she wants from you. It is certain she didn’t know everything about you and your people. The curse people. From magnificent elves to dark elves you fall deep down into obscurity. Literally and figuratively. It was funny to you to see the pure princess coming for darkness to invade her darkening heart. You knew you were drawn to her. You knew you could do something incredible with her. You had waited too long to use the entirety of your power.

“ We don’t have enough time. Riri, this is [ Y/N ]. The one I told you about. “

Shuri introduced you to a younger black woman. Your head moved to greet her. No word leaving your mouth. You had never been a great talker.

“ So she’s the one they want ? “

You asked, finally breaking your own silence. Riri seems to be happy that you know about her work. To be true, you had heard about her machine being able to find vibranium. As awful as it could sound, you were glad that the surface world had all their eyes focused on vibranium rather than one of your people’s precious metals. Galleries are maybe a good opportunity to lose your enemies and to hide but the moment they will surround your realm, you will be dead. Your people may be one of the fiercest fighters, you could not win over enemies that know all of your hidden doors. You would be doomed.

“ Apparently, yes I am “

The genius inventor said, embarrassed by the whole situation she pulled Wakanda in. She may have the best intentions in the world, she needs to be more careful. You scoffed at this thought that reminds you of someone you knew the most : yourself.

“ When are we going to fight ? “

You asked eager to cross your swords with Talokan’s weapons. You had heard they were one of the most powerful weapons. The ones you couldn’t break. It would be lies to say you didn’t want to try them.

“ We are going to attack first. This way we will have the advantage. We will be in the middle of the ocean. He would not touch Wakanda again. “

Shuri spoke like the true queen she was. She had taken the throne days ago after Namor killed her mother. It wasn’t her who told you this but one of her spies. Nakia if you remembered her name well and your memory was really good. You could remember almost everything from your long life. This was your salvation but mostly your curse. As said, everyone gathered to go to this war. Each soldier from each tribe walks to the battleship. And now, set sail. May the show begin.

*****

While the fight was occurring on the ship, you helped Shuri to capture the Feathered Serpent God. She didn’t need any help at that point. Her hatred for the man who had killed her mother took control over her body. The winged man was trying to destroy the aircraft he was imprisoned in. She made him mad as hell. So did he. Another smile crossed your face as you watched the two of them. Maybe you just should stay to watch them fighting. It was a delicious spectacle to watch.

What you couldn’t say was that your eyes were only watching the submariner man. He had piqued your curiosity. Something in you wanted to know much more about him. He must have feel the weight of your eyesight on him as he was now watching you. His eyes were full of anger but you seemed to have caught him off guard. A smirk on your face, you were enjoying this.

As things went worse on the ship and mostly because you did nothing useful on the aircraft, Shuri asked you to go back on the said ship. Her voice was full of anger. Your darkness enjoyed it a bit too much. You said nothing but agreed and went there. You didn’t like what was going on but you couldn’t say anything. Your powers only grew stronger each time you were close to all of these people who let their hatred and rage took over their bodies. War has always been something you fed from. It was your little secret.

As you land on the infamous ship, the aircraft flies to the closest continent. Talokan fought really hard. So does Wakanda. You wish your people could be part of it. Things would have been way too easy.

Soon enough, the fight was over. Namor submitted it to Shuri. Talokan lost. Wakanda wins. Both returning to their lands, healing their soldiers and rebuilding their towns. Celebrating for some, plotting for the others. You were quite frustrated. You thought Shuri would fall deeper into darkness but her will and morality were too strong for you to win. Maybe it was better this way than the other. You have to be realistic. If it wasn’t her, then you would find someone else. You already knew who this person would be.

After some goodbyes to your new friends, wishing them the best, you left Wakanda for another secret place. Only if they knew, they wouldn’t be so happy and eager to meet you again. You could feel Okoye’s suspicious look on your back. The one you had felt during your journey with them.

*****

You follow Nakia’s indications about the cave’s location. You had overheard her when she was explaining to Okoye where she found the princess, now queen of Wakanda. Due to this, you were now at the edge of a very small village on the Yucatan peninsula between the forest and the sea. In no time, you had found the infamous cave. You weren’t a quite good swimmer. You

“ The Moon will always respond to the Ocean’s call. You know this more than anyone else. ”

You said to the Ocean King, in your dark military outfits while he was in his golden ornaments robe. Only the moonlight that crossed the cave’s walls was reflecting through your elvish gold sword. She never left you on any occasion. She was the last thing you had from your past civilization.

“ You were on Wakanda's side. And now you are here before me, trying to get an alliance. “

The mutant responded, with wrath controlling his voice tone. His jaw was tense. You were quite amused by this even if you really deserved it. Your eyes couldn’t leave the man’s face. There was something mesmerizing about him. Something appealing. Something you couldn’t resist.

“ Maybe if you had come first, I'd be by your side now. “

You confessed nonchalantly. You had always been attracted by the most interesting offers people can propose to you. Your allies' choices were never fixed exceptionally in this kind of situation where both reasons were to listen and discuss. Listening to people’s darkness made you choose your camp. His politics were relatable to you. You could do the same things for your own people.

“ What do you want from my people ? You came here without us inviting you. “ “ I mean have overheard your location, sorry not sorry. You already hated the surface people too much. So do I. “

You cut him off. A playful smirk was seen above your face making his face tensing up. You could see a tint of curiosity crossing his eyes. He was suspicious about you and he must be.

The meeting was quite interesting. You had the chance to learn more about his people. He explained this to you as a sort of a warning. He wanted to be sure you knew where you had fallen as he had done it with Shuri weeks ago. He wanted you to know how powerful he was. You had seen him and his people fighting against Wakanda forces. You know what they are made of. You knew how great warriors they were and you showed him how you respect his people. More you listened to him, the more you grew curious about the king and his realm. As a mark of mutual trust - as little it was - you told him about your people and what you’ve been through. Both of you understood quickly how similar you were at some points.

You didn’t know how long your conversation lasted but it felt like none of you wanted it to end. He had offered you to visit his realm and to lend you a submarine suit they had stolen from that american team who started this whole war between the two vibranium possessor nations. With a little laugh, you had shown him how useful your control over darkness could be used to. You had seen the mesmerizing look in his eyes. Something had shifted. Something was wrong. You couldn’t find any word to put on. You were attracted to this man. It was too much to bear it alone. Your shoulders would break faster than those last centuries have tried to. You could feel his body heat crossing yours as he was so close to you. Chest against chest. Your hands on his muscular chest. His hands holding your hips. His lips brushing against your. You deeply wanted him to press them against yours and you wanted to slap yourself for this thought. You wouldn't think about anything else as his dark piercing eyes were locked into yours. He wasn’t going better than you. Both tensed and attracted to each other. You were rising something that was buried deep inside him, in a place he thought unable to unlock. Not like he wanted to.

Finally, his lips took possession of yours. Both dancing with roughness and an unknown passion. Both fighting for dominance. Both being made for each other. You didn’t want this to end, nor will he. His hands were desperately all over your body. Your fingers were pulling his black hair. Pleasure was running through your veins. You couldn’t fight against and you didn’t want to. You were too needy for him so he was for you. You wanted him to take away this unpleasant feeling while your body was burning. Heatwaves broke on your inner core. You needed him to do something. You could feel his neediness against your lower abdomen. Soon, the black leather corset above your jetblack long sleeve shirt and the latest will leave you too quickly for your taste. His gold ornament robe left his body too quickly for his own taste. Both of you were already panting without knowing why.

As things were becoming hotter every second that passed, you finally used your powers to be sure no one would interrupt or hear you. Like Wanda’s hex, your own barrier made with darkness will isolate the both of you from his realm. A devilish smile on his face, he seems to approve.

Soon enough, his lips were all over your body. They were giving hot kisses on your neck and your shoulders. Love bites against your hot skin. You were moaning softly his name. It wasn’t enough for him. He needed more. Still kissing your neck and playing with your hardening nipples, he led you to his bed. You let yourself fall on it when your knees tripped over the mattress. In your fall, you took him with you. He was above your whole body. You love this feeling a bit too much. Your legs encircled his waist, making your lower self thrusting against his hardening self. You snatched a deep moan from him. His eyes full of lust met yours once again. Oh yes, you will burn the world down for him.

“ Please do something …”

You needily whispered to his ears making him shivered. Without wasting more time, he took off your training pants and boots, throwing them somewhere else in the little room. Both of you couldn’t care less at this very moment.

“ Anything my queen wants. “

He said using his deep voice, full of lust and neediness. As said, he continued his kissing trails down to your inner core. You started being a moaning mess and he hasn’t touched you yet. A powerful shiver stroke your body at the thought of him doing whatever he wants with his sinful mouth. His tongue against your sensitive core was one of the most skillful things you have ever met. You couldn’t think but only moaning his name again and again. Your eyes were closed and tense. He could enjoy the show as he lifted his own eyes to watch over you. His tongue was still eating you out. His fingers were playing with your burning inside. Oh yeah, he was proud of the effects he was creating in you. Soon or later, he will be too addicted to it. It will be fatal for him as it will for you. He must protect you.

As he felt your orgasm coming, he decided to stop everything, making you moaning in complain. He laughed at your reaction. You will soon be served what you want. He couldn’t wait to bury his hardening self deep inside your burning core. His body was all above yours. His hands were from both sides of your head as he placed himself between your shaking legs.

A part of you was surprised to see how gentle and careful he was with you, as if he could break you in one move. He was reckless, eager for revenge. He could put the whole world in fire and ashes. He could kill without hesitation just to be sure his people were out of danger. You were just like him. Maybe this was what drew you to him and him to you.

Your drowning thoughts were cut as he entered your inner core. A concerned look was on his face as you came back to your body, moaning. His own moaning joining yours. He let you adjust to his size and when it was done, his rough thrusts started. They threw you to the stars in a few seconds. Your nails were dug into his muscular back. His hand next to your head held him still above you while the other one was running one your body before meeting your burning nerves ball. You were a moaning mess.

Pleasure in its purest and strongest form. None of you lasted so long. Soon enough, both of you reached your powerful orgasms, him filling you deep inside. Your body will be full of bruises and love bites as his body will be full of scratches.

Now, both of you were panting next to each other, a happy and relieved smile on both your faces as your eyes were locked into his. You were over the edge from what he gifted you. You were over the edge to be the unique person able to see this side of him. He was over the edge to be the unique person able to see this side of you.

Now, he had to go back to his duties and so do you. His cold and cruel attitude was back on his face. The God ruler of Talokan gave you a last kiss on your forehead before dressing himself again and leaving to accomplish his royal duties. The barrier you created formerly was lifted. Darkness coming back to your body and to wherever you stole them. It could be from people, places, animals or vegetables. You didn’t care. You only needed them to be powerful. You laid there a quite long time, your mind playing with you again.

******

After your encounter with Namor, you came back to your realm. You didn’t want to leave at first. You knew he didn’t want to. His eyes spoke for him as he let you go back to the cave’s waters. A goodbye kiss was the only thing you could give him. His hands were holding your cheeks. His thumbs sweetly cherished your skin. He was too sweet to be real. You were drowning into the sadness of his eyes. Something inside you was breaking. You didn’t know what but could only imagine what.

You would do anything to meet him again. It was really strange for you who had never listened to your heart’s whispers. They were too strong. He raised things you had never known possible and hidden deep inside your being. Two of the strongest rulers of the world are weak for each other. It was quite funny as you thought of it. If it was to be known by your enemies, they will use it against both of you. They will raise an inhuman rage that no one has ever known yet. You felt what Namor could do to this world. His darkness spoke to you, telling you his deepest and darkest desires. You wanted to do anything to make them come true.

One of his people talked to him in a tongue you didn’t know. His face changed when he saw the warriors and by the name he said, you knew it was Namora. You kinda like this woman. She was fierce and ruthless. Then, he told you it was time for you to leave. His voice was cold. He didn’t want you to leave nor did you do. Both had to act as nothing was going on.

As soon as you left the undersea cave that leads to his temple, you found a bus that was going to the closest airport to get a plane to go back to [ Your Continent ] undergrounds where your people are hiding. Sadly for you, your people weren’t located near the sea. Mountains have been the best place you could have found. When cities became too huge for you to stay underground, most of your kind moved to the countryside. Galleries were built throughout mountains.

The truth was that you tried to comeback home. He would never know. You were sure of that. Things went really wrong the very moment your feet landed on the airport soil as a surprise was waiting for you there. Something you had thought about. The Americans were on your back. They were waiting for you. How could you be surprised when they had almost all the superheroes under control at some point. You didn’t fight when they arrested you. There is always something else at the back of your mind. Your actions were always too calculated for your own good. Evil must always be prepared. Let them believe they got you. Your people's hatred will only be bigger as days pass with you being imprisoned at the Raft. A prison on the sea when Darkness is the Ocean’s most beloved person.

As much as you wish to hope, you couldn’t count on someone you had barely met. You were too old to trust people based on the first impression they gave you. Whatever happens between the both of you, you couldn’t. A part of you wishes too. Maybe you should have kept that seashell. You hated yourself for not stealing it. Now, you will stay there for how long the Old Gods know. Your wicked game will cost you everything. You will have all your time to think about a revenge plan. When you won’t be hating yourself for your stupidity and your humans’ worlds ignorance. You were sure : you hated them more than anything else. The surface world must be burned down.

******

You were locked for four months into that damn glass cell on that damn Raft. You were alone there. An army of skillful soldiers were guarding you. An army of the Earth enemies were backing you. Oh you could use their inner darkness to break free from this ugly place. Only if they hadn’t some sort of bracelet blocking your powers. The moment they put them on your wrist, you felt empty. An emptiness that could break the whole universe. Hatred filled your arching heart.

There was something else that made you unable to attack. A little gift Namor has granted you before leaving. You had been feeling sick a few days after you arrived there. You knew at that very moment. Something had changed deep inside you. From this moment, you were much more on your guard. You needed to be sure no one knows but the scientists there were on the lookout for every change. You knew they were testing whatever they created in that laboratory on the prisoners. You prayed everyday they wouldn’t come for you. You could lose that little gift. You needed to escape. You needed to go back to Namor. It wasn’t time to panic. Your hormones were making a mess of your emotions and you already hated it.

You were laying on your back on your miserable bed. Your hands were resting on your red shirt with its white sleeves. You were zoning out. You were sent deep inside your thoughts. You were your own darkness prisoner. Once again. Eyes looking at the gray and white ceiling until the Raft’s sirens were ringing throughout the prison. It seemed there was an attack here, you thought. You had no energy to move. Your curiosity couldn’t make you move. Screams were heard all over the prison. Laughs were heard too. You knew from who they were - the other prisoners. They seemed to enjoy the attack too much. A part of you wanted to know what was going on and especially who was attacking the most famous impenetrable prison. A part of you was hoping Namor would come to save you but how could he know ? Finding this prison on the sea was the easiest part of the game for the ocean’s ruler. His people had barely escorted you to the surface when you had left the cave. They were all over the ocean, maybe some had seen something. Maybe you had too much hope. You had barely created an alliance with the Feathered Serpent God.

As screams became louder and louder, you knew they were close to your cell. You couldn’t know how close exactly they were and now you were afraid they would come for your child. Your protective hands were holding your belly that was barely showing. You finally decided to move from your bed and stand up. Your cell was bigger than anyone in a real prison could see. You had to walk for almost three meters to reach the translucent glass that nothing could break.

One of your hands left your belly to hold you against the glass. You tried your best to stretch out yourself to see what was going on. Lights were shut down. Only the red one was going on and off. Bodies were scattered across the corridor. You flinched and gasped when something hit your cell’s glass. Then a face you hadn’t seen in months was presented to you. Rage could be seen on that face before they could see how shocked your face was. A worried look was on that face. It didn’t stop the shock from crossing your body. You couldn’t feel such intense emotion. You were too scared that something could happen. Tears rushes down your face. You couldn’t control them. How could you at that very moment ?

Then, the tall man asked you to shift your place for a safer one - it wasn’t that easy due to the tiniest cell you were in - and he tried to break the glass with his superstrength. He was in a hurry. He has to save you from this place. He has to be quick. He won’t leave with you and both of you know this. As it didn’t work, he tried to break the

“ Tell me you are safe and sound. Please tell me this. “

His voice betrayed his cold and angered face. The only thing you could do was running your hands all over his cheeks. You need to feel him close to you. You needed to be sure he really was there. You needed to be sure it wasn’t a dream or one of your darkness’ games. Some weight was lifted from your shoulders. It wasn’t the time for this kind of sweet reunion. Time was urging you to leave as soon as you could. Backups would come soon. If it wasn’t one of these superheroes the surface world has. Even if usually you were curious to meet them, today there wasn’t any time for this.

“ [ Y / N ]... We must leave this place now. I’ll protect you. There’s no fear to have. Now come with me.. “

You didn’t respond but followed him as he took your hand into his wet and rough hand. You tried to follow his footsteps but with your condition - he still didn’t know about - and your powers stolen from you, you couldn’t be as quick as he was. Your stamina - that traitor - had already left you to be hidden somewhere else.

You did your best. His people were fighting harder and harder against the Raft’s soldiers. When you reached the edge of the prison, he placed a respiratory mask on your face. You knew what would happen next. With a concerned look on his face, he asked you if you were ready to go. Deep inside him, he knew something had happened for you to react this way. You looked at your back and saw his people coming back to the waters. It was time for both of you to leave. They wouldn’t go before their king and his lover were safe in the ocean. So, without any hesitation, you gave a little pressure on his hand that hasn't left you. He took you into his arms and plunged into the cold water. You wish you had your powers to protect you from this intense coldness. You wouldn’t last long enough in the cold sea. Your eyesight started to see darkness before your eyes were shut down. Now, you were panting unconscious into Namor’s arms. You were too far away to hear his war threats to the surface world. He finally might have seen the powers blocker bracelets.

******

You remembered nothing. You didn’t know how long you had slept. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep. Nightmares have taken control over your sleep. Sometimes - when you were sleeping - you could feel a soft pressure on one of your hands. At some moment, you finally emerged from your sleep. Fear was the first thing that crossed your mind as your hands automatically held your belly. A chuckle was heard near you. You should have looked around in the first place.

“ You are safe. You're okay and so they are, my dear. “

As surprise came across your face, you turned to look at the voice. It was at that moment that you realized you were in Namor’s temple on the ground. The said man was sitting next to you, laying onto his own bed, in his golden ornaments and robe. He was shining something you had really seen but in the moonlight. This made you sighed in relief. It was finally over. Everything was over. You were safe. Both of you were.

“ I am glad both of you are safe. Attuma has checked on both of you. “ “ How did you know where I was ? “ “ I… “

For the first time, the submarine mutant was hesitating. This hesitation was quickly replaced by a small smirk as he ran a hand into his dry hair.

“ I have ears all over the whole coast. It took me time but I finally came to you. I was right to do so. I was right to listen to my instinct only. And here you are in full flesh. “

As the King was looking at you, he placed one of his hands on your belly. When his healer had told him about your condition, he was at the same time worried, happy and angered. His hatred for the surface world was behind comprehension. It was reinforced by what they had done to you. Soon you had learned that Namora, who was skeptical about your comeback among them at first, was willing to drown the world. You were caring for their king’s heir. A half-blood child. Looking at both your powers, they will rule the surface world one day. All of his people were sure of that as the rumors broke all over his realm.

“ Let’s burn the world down together when our child will be born “ Now you needed a way to bring your people there. You couldn’t stay too long from them. You couldn’t abandon them. Both your realm together,the more powerful you will be. The surface world wasn’t going to be ready. But for now, there are better things for you to think about like enjoy the rest of your pregnancy with your submarine king.

#namor x reader #mcu namor #namor the sub mariner #talocan #black panther #black panther wakanda forever #soulmates #nonhumanreader #readerwithpowers #tenoch huerta #smut #protective namor #namor the submarine x reader #black panther 2 #wakanda forever

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literaryavenger · 9 months

Text

Captain America: The Winter Soldier

Summary: You're part of the Strike team and join Captain America as he tries to live his new life in the 21st century. [Reader is NOT Hydra]

Pairing: platonic!Steve Rogers x F!Reader, platonic!Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Warnings: Language. Rumlow being a dick. Mentions of death. My poor attempts at being funny. Idk, everything else in the movie?

Word Count: 2.7K

A/N: Happy New Year! This the first chapter in a new series I'm starting! I'm not sure how long it's gonna be yet, but I know it's gonna be longer than Broken. These series is about an alternate universe where the reader exists and lives through the events that happen in the MCU. A lot of the details will be changed to insert the reader, a lot of the lines said by other characters will be changed to be the reader's and I've also made up a lot of things and scenes and added them, trying my best not to change the official timeline and the main events. I hope you enjoy this and all chapters to come!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“You heard the boss, newbie, text Romanoff and tell her to pick up Rogers.” Rumlow taps his knuckles twice on the table for emphasis before getting up and exiting the conference room.

You make sure he doesn't miss the way you roll your eyes at the now old nickname before writing ‘New mission, need you at the jet in one hour. Asshole wants you to pick up the old man in spandex’ on your phone and sending the message to Natasha, then you get up and make your way out of the room.

“Armory.” you say as you enter the elevator.

“Confirmed.” the elevator voice says as the doors start closing.

You suit up for the mission just assigned by Pierce and go to the jet to start doing the checkups you know the rest of the idiots on the STRIKE team won’t even think about doing.

After making sure everything’s ready and in order, you can do nothing more than wait for everybody else.

Natasha and Steve get there exactly an hour after your text.

“Right on time.” you point out.

“It wasn’t a coincidence, YLN.” Natasha smirks, making you laugh.

“Cap.” you greet him with a smile that he returns. “Y/N.”

The rest of the team meets you a few minutes after. “Ready for take off.” Rumlow says to the pilot and the jet takes off.

Once you get close to the target Rumlow starts briefing Steve and Nat. “The target is a mobile satellite launch platform: The Lemurian Star. They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them, 93 minutes ago.”

“Any demands?” Steve asks.

“A billion and a half.” Rumlow answers.

“Why so steep?” Steve questions frowning.

“Because it’s Shield’s.” you answer promptly, ignoring the scowl on Rumlow’s face that disappears almost immediately.

“So it’s not off-course,” Steve says, understanding flashing in his eyes as he glares at Natasha “it’s trespassing.”

“I’m sure they have a good reason.” Natasha offers.

“You know, I’m getting a little tired of being Fury’s janitor.”-Steve seems really annoyed now.

“Relax, it’s not that complicated.” Natasha simply says.

“How many pirates?” Steve’s attention is back on the screen.

“Twenty-five, top mercs, led by this guy. Georges Batroc.” Rumlow pulls up the photo of Batroc on the monitor and looks at you expectantly, making you roll your eyes.

Of course you’re the only one who actually looked through the files.

“Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He’s at the top of Interpol's Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions. The guy’s got a rep for maximum casualties.” you fill everybody in, although it was obvious most of the guys aren't listening. At least the Captain is.

“Hostages?” Steve questions you, but Rumlow cuts in.

“Mostly techs. One officer, Jasper Sitwell.” he shows his picture. You’ve seen Sitwell around headquarters, he seems pretty close with the STRIKE team. Not that you hang out much with them outside of mission, or at all for that matter. “They’re in the gallery.”

“What’s Sitwell doing on a launch ship?” Steve asks more to himself, and he has a point. “Alright, I’m gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat and Y/N, you’ll kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, you sweep aft, find the hostages, get them to the life-pots, get ‘em out. Let’s move.”

Yep, he’s definitely in Captain mode.

“Ay ay, Captain.” you salute with a smirk that mirrors Natasha’s while Steve gives you a fake annoyed look.

“STRIKE, you heard the Cap. Gear up.” Rumlow says but you’ve already started getting ready and stopped listening to him.

“Secure channel seven.” Steve says into his wrist communicator.

“Seven secure.” Natasha replies. “Did you do anything fun Saturday night?”

“Well, all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead, so… No, not really.” Steve answers, making both you and Natasha laugh while the pilot lets you know that the drop zone is coming up.

“You know, if you ask Kristen out, from Statistics, she’d probably say yes.” you point out, exchanging a knowing glance with Natasha.

“That’s why I don’t ask.” he fires back

“Too shy or too scared?” Natasha pushes.

“Too busy!” He yells over the wind as the door opens and then he jumps.

You and Natasha both roll your eyes and look at each other smiling, not needing to talk to understand the other.

You barely register Rumlow and Rollins commenting on Steve jumping without a parachute before grabbing one for yourself and jumping alongside Nat.

You and Natasha have known each other for a while now, all the way back since she was first brought in by Clint.

You trained with both of them, went on countless missions together (yes, including Budapest) and you would’ve been right by their side in New York if you hadn't been on an important undercover mission and had strict orders directly from Fury not to blow your cover.

After that you got assigned to the STRIKE team by Alexander Pierce, though you still have no idea why. But orders are orders so you’ve been working with the idiots ever since.

But you and Natasha are thankfully still pretty close and your down time is spent mostly with her, sometimes also visiting Clint and his family at his farm.

Nat’s still annoyed at Clint about naming his only daughter after you, middle name but still, and not her. But to be fair, you have known Clint longer, a fact that always amuses both you and Clint to bring up.

You’ve just landed when you hear Rumlow saying “you seemed pretty helpless without me” to Steve.

“What about the nurse who lives across the hall from you?” Natasha says.

“Yeah, she seems nice.” you add.

“Secure the engines, then find me a date.” Steve says in his captain voice.

“We’re multitasking.” Nat tells him before turning to you. “you take port, I’ll take starboard and we’ll meet at the rendezvous point”

“Copy.” you say and make your way to the engine room on the right side of the ship. You start taking down guys and can hear Rumlow saying they’re ready in position.

Just as you finish with the last guy you hear Steve calling your name. “What’s your status?”

“Port engine room secure.” you answer.

“Good, make your way to help Rumlow with the hostages.”

“Roger that.” you can almost hear him groan in annoyance as you smile while following his orders.

“Natasha, what’s your status?” you can hear her grunt while she fights through the comms. “Status, Natasha?”

“Hang on!” She says as she keeps fighting. “Starboard engine room secure.”

You hear Steve countdown from three and then the team moving in on the targets, you get to the rendezvous point just in time to see Rumlow rounding the corner with the hostages on his tail.

“Hostages en route to extradition.” he says in his comms as you look around for Natasha.

“Romanoff missed the rendezvous point, Cap. Hostiles are still in play.” you let Steve know while helping take care of the hostages.

“Natasha, Batroc’s on the move. Circle back to Y/N and protect the hostages.” he receives no answer and at this point you get a little worried. “Natasha!”

You want to go looking for her but you know better than to leave your post, and you’re also very aware that Natasha can take care of herself.

So you keep protecting the hostages while listening intently to the comms where you can hear Steve fight, then you hear a voice you assume it’s Batroc’s talking French and are even more surprised to hear Steve answer back in French. Impressive.

You can hear him fighting again and then you finally hear Natasha’s voice but don’t pay too much attention to the conversation, bringing your entire focus on the hostages now that you know she’s okay.

You’re helping people into the life-pods when you hear an explosion go off somewhere on the boat. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until you hear Natasha’s voice again and let it go, feeling even more relieved after hearing Steve too.

The ride back is very uncomfortable as you help Natasha with the minor injuries from the explosion, Steve refusing help and insisting that he’s fine, and in the mood he’s in you’re certainly not about to argue.

As soon as the jet lands he stomps away angrily and you share a concerned look with Natasha, worried about what he’s gonna do next.

You help Nat to the medbay and leave her there when she assures you she’s okay and to not make a fuss over her.

So you make your way to the usual conference room for debriefing but when you get there Rumlow very smugly assures you that you’re not needed at this meeting.

You’re used to being left out of meetings with the STRIKE team and Pierce by now, since you’ve been forced to join you’ve been left out of more meetings that you’ve attended, but it still bothers you sometimes.

Still, at least you don’t have to spend too much time with those neanderthals. Not your circus, not your monkeys.

So you just make your way to the Armory to put away your gear and then the locker room to change and go home for what you think is gonna be the rest of the day.

A few hours later you find yourself in the hospital where the STRIKE team has been called in the middle of the night because, guess what? Someone tried to kill Director Fury. Or, as it turns out, succeeded.

You’re behind Steve, Natasha and Hill alongside Rumlow and Sitwell, watching Fury flatlining and the doctors calling it.

You want to go with Nat to see Fury, be there for her knowing she cared about him as much as you do, but obviously Rumlow has to be a dick and order you to stay put. And, whether you like it or not, he’s your boss.

He rudely interrupts Nat and Steve’s conversation telling him they need him back at headquarters and you can already tell something’s suddenly off.

As much as Rumlow can be an asshole, he’s never been openly rude towards Steve.

You can hear Sitwell in your earpiece telling the team to bring Rogers in for questioning as he and Rumlow get closer.

“STRIKE, move it out.” he orders but you don't start moving until Steve’s by your side, giving him what you hope is a reassuring smile.

When you get to the Triskelion Steve is taken to Pierce’s office and you get ordered to go to Forensics and check into the evidence found on the roof, then go to Operations Control and wait for there for further instructions, so you do.

When you get to the control room you see Sitwell concentrated on a particular screen so you get close trying not to get noticed and see Steve fighting STRIKE and SHIELD agents in the elevator.

You barely have time to understand what’s happening before he’s throwing himself off the elevator and lands on his shield near the entrance of the building. Thankfully Sitwell’s “Are you kidding me?” covered your quiet “holy shit.”

You’re in the room when Sitwell gives the orders to track down Rogers to all the Agents and when he’s done, you discreetly follow him and the rest of the STRIKE team out the room.

For a bunch of guys who work for a top secret organization they sure suck at knowing when they’re being followed.

No one talks until they get to a deserted corridor. “Pierce is going to kill us. Rogers has the flash drive and can use it to find Zola. You fucked up big time letting him go.” Sitwell sounds pissed.

“Take it easy, four eyes.” Rumlow sounds just as angry “You’re not the one that got punched by a supersoldier.”

They keep talking about the flash drive and Steve and Pierce and Zola. That name sounds familiar but you can’t remember for the life of you where you heard it from.

Then it hits you.

Zola was a former Hydra scientist from World War II, turned ally when the war ended. Thank god the Howling Commandos were hot so you actually paid attention during that particular history class.

You're about to turn away so you won’t risk getting caught eavesdropping when you hear your name being mentioned.

“Someone should keep an eye on her.” Sitwell says, making you worried of becoming the next Shield target, but Rumlow proceeds to ease your worries.

“That’s a waste of manpower. The whole reason she’s even on our team was so we could keep a closer eye on Rogers, but she just spends all her time with Romanoff.”

So that’s why Pierce assigned you to the STRIKE team.

Yeah, you’re closer to Steve than most people but it’s not like you’re best friends, you sometimes hang out outside of work but most of your interactions are mission related.

You decide you've heard enough to kind of put together what’s going on, but there’s not much you can do to help Steve yet, not knowing where he is. So you stick to following the STRIKE team, praying that your absence in the control room goes unnoticed.

STRIKE gets a hit on Steve’s location and you follow them in your car to a mall but think better than to follow them in, waiting patiently outside.

After a few minutes you see Steve and Natasha in their not so well thought out undercover outfits and, once again, the Captain surprises you by hot-wiring a car.

You follow them, more discreetly this time, knowing Natasha and Steve would be better at realizing they’re being followed.

You get to an old army camp in Wheaton, New Jersey and are about to follow them in and make yourself known to them, but before you can get out of your car you hear the plan the STRIKE team has through your comms.

The idiots never even thought about using a different channel. Of course Rumlow would underestimate you this much.

So you decide to drive deeper into the trees surrounding the camp to make sure you’re not visible and wait, knowing Steve and Natasha will need a fast getaway.

You can do nothing more than watch as a missile hits the bunker and the helicopters start coming. You want to go and help them, make sure they're okay, but you will yourself to stay put and not give away your position.

When you can faintly see Steve’s figure, almost running with what looks like Nat in his arms, you finally turn the car on and drive coming to a stop right in front of him and startling him to a stop on his tracks.

“Get in.” you urge him, and he seems wary of you, rightly so. “Come on, Cap, they can’t know I’m here!”

He seems to decide to risk trusting you and delicately sets an unconscious Nat down in the back seat before getting in the passenger’s seat.

As soon as his door is closed you drive away as fast as you can, heading back to Washington and you can feel Steve’s eyes on you.

“How do I know I can trust you?” he finally says after a minute of silence, his eyes never leaving you. “You’re part of them, after all.”

“I can see where you’re coming from, but trust me I’m not one of them.” You glance at him and you can tell that he’s not convinced yet, so you go on. “I didn’t even know who ‘them’ were before today. Apparently the reason Pierce assigned me to the STRIKE team was in hopes to get closer to you. He overestimated how close we actually are. If Natasha was awake right now she would tell you how much I hate working with those assholes… You can trust me.”

You take a look at the rearview mirror and see Natasha, but her relaxed face does nothing to ease your worries.

Steve seems to pick up on your concerns as his features soften and, ever the hopelessly optimistic, he chooses to believe you.

“Okay,” he says, “what do we do now?”

“We have to get you somewhere safe” you check your mirrors as much as you can, making sure you’re not being followed “I don’t know any safehouses outside of Shield's radar. We need a place we can go that they know nothing about.”

“I have an idea.” he says, you glance at him and see him already looking at you, so you nod.

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 7 months

Note

congrats on 450!! I've just gotten back into my star wars hyperfixation, tis the season I suppose, and your fics have been LIFE SAVERS and so I am here to congratulate you on an incredibly well earned celebration! and to request:

7. "you're not as bad as everyone says."

28. "maybe there's a universe your there where we're friends."

with either Wolfe or Cody x fem/gender neutral (whichever you prefer)?

Thank you so much and congrats again!!! <3

Awww @hxad-ovxr-hxart that's so sweet. I'm so glad my fics have helped. That makes me so happy, and I hope you'll like the fic. I wrote with Wolffe in mind. Enjoy.

Love oo,

Friends

Warnings: Crashing, angst, death, fluff, comfort, I think that's it. If I miss anything please let me know.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

Commander Wolffe was never a man who suffered fools, he didn’t appreciate tardiness, he hated chit chat, and worst of all he hated personal questions. And somehow you managed to do all four on your first day on the Triumphant, which made you public enemy number one in Wolffe’s book.

Every day you saw him, he simply rolled his eyes and growled each time you passed.

You tried your best to fix it, but no matter what you did or said, it didn’t make a difference. You gave up after months of constant growls and eye rolls. Now you simply made a point to arrive on time for your shift as a communication specialist. You performed your role to the best of your ability, and did your best to stay out of his way.

Things were going well, that was until your shuttle crashed, and the two of you were the only survivors.

“Anything broken?” Wolffe asked after he checked on the two pilots and made his way over to you.

You shook your head, “No. I think …” you tested out each of your limbs, “I think I’m alright” you groaned as you tried to stand.

“Easy. Here,” he held out his hand to help you up, “alright?”

You nodded and followed him out of the crashed gunship, “Hmm… where are we?” You looked around trying to become aware of your surroundings.

“We dropped out of hyperspace somewhere in between, the Triumphant and our destination. Don’t worry they’ll come for us, I sent out a distress beacon.”

“How long do you think we’ll be here?”

“A day or two… maybe a week.” He went into the ship, and grabbed the emergency gear, passing one backpack to you and keeping one himself.

“Are we going somewhere?”

“To a more defensible position, we don’t wanna be out here in case there’s Separatist droids nearby or in case there are any dangerous animals.”

You nodded and followed him, keeping pace as best you could. It was about three hours later, when you were panting and gasping for breath, “Wait … Commander, please I … I need a break.” You leaned against a boulder.

“Alright …” Wolffe nodded, “take a break, we can rest for a minute.”

You nodded, thanking him, as you took a break, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, you’re a civilian. You’re not used to this.”

You looked up at him as you regained your breath and took a sip of water, “You know, you’re not as bad as everyone says you are.”

Wolffe, let out a laugh, “And how bad does everyone say I am?”

“That you have a short temper, you don’t suffer fools, you don’t like civilians really…”

He turned to look at you, “Really?” You simply nodded your answer, “I wouldn’t say I don’t like civilians, I’d say … civilians don’t appreciate the sacrifices me and my brothers make.”

“I know” you answered solemnly, “I’ve heard them, when I walk around Coruscant. I’m sorry. It’s not right or fair.”

“My life has never been really fair. But, thank you.”

You stood brushing off your pants, “I’m good, we can continue.”

Wolffe simply nodded as he led the way to a cave that would provide the right shelter, he set up a defensive perimeter, while you started a fire, when you were finished he came and sat beside you nodding at your achievement.

“Good job, didn’t think civilians knew how to start a fire”

“Well I did take basic survival training, when I first joined the GAR.”

“Impressive.” He took off his helmet and his gloves, keeping the comm alert on high in case the rescue team was trying to get a hold of them.

“Commander” you looked into the fire, lost in thought, “Do you think maybe there's a universe out there where we're friends?”

“I don’t know” Wolffe answered as he kept his own gaze on the fire, “but I can tell you, you gained a friend today.” He smirked as he looked at you, “Listen, I don’t know what I ever did to make you think I hate you, civvie. But I don’t. I am actually impressed by you. It’s not easy joining the GAR to begin with, not as a civilian, certainly not as a woman, but you continue to work harder than everyone else. You’re prompt with your reports and always pleasant with your co-workers. I’ve heard nothing but praise from everyone you work with, and even today, you put up with a lot, with barely a complaint. That’s impressive.”

You tried to hide the smile that wanted to creep on to your face, “Thank you, Commander.”

“Wolffe.”

“I’m sorry?”

“When it’s just us, you can call me Wolffe. After all, we’re friends, right?”

“That’s right … Wolffe.”

He didn’t know why but hearing you say his name, brought a smile to his lips. “Close your eyes and try to sleep” he motioned to the ground, “I’ll keep watch. You’ll be safe.”

You nodded and leaned down against the ground resting your head on the backpack, wrapping the emergency blanket around you to stay warm. “Wolffe, do you think someone got our distress signal?”

“Don’t worry civvie, Plo’buir isn’t about to leave us behind.” He looked after you and smiled, “Just relax, and close your eyes. It’ll be okay.”

You nodded, closing your eyes, “Thank you, Wolffe”

“For?”

“For being my friend,” your voice trailed off as the exhaustion from the crash, the hike, and just the anxiety of the day pulled you under. Soon enough you were snoring.

Wolffe smiled as he watched you sleep, his heart fluttering as he took in your features. He always wondered why you had kept your distance from him, but to think you thought he hated you, made his heart hurt. It was so far from the truth. However, it was too soon to point that out. Instead, for now, he’d be your friend, and hope that in the future, your friendship could progress to something more. Maybe one day.

“Goodnight, cyar’ika. Sweet dreams.” He whispered as he put his helmet back on and kept his blaster on his lap, keeping guard, making it his job to protect you.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

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strwbmei · 6 months

Text

Matchup Event

Matchup for: @schendsal

Matchups: Yukong, Bronya, Eula

Contains: fluff, smut, male reader, breeding (Yukong), creampie mentions (Yukong), mentions of lactation (Yukong), breast play (Yukong and Bronya), marking (Bronya), semi-public sex (Eula), implied masturbation (Eula), blowjob (Eula)

A/N: Sorry for taking so long! Honestly, it was Yukong's part that took the longest because there was a bunch of stuff I had to confirm with the lore and then I ended up changing most of it by the time I was almost finished. Hope you like it, though!

Ask:

Congratulations on reaching 1,000 followers, I hope you continue to grow more and more!

Personality-wise I tend to be an ambivert.

Around close friends I'm the one in the group who's always cracking jokes or saying the most mind-numbingly stupid things. I do this to make them laugh and keep their spirits high, since I know that life can be pretty stressful for everyone. If that stress gets to be too much, then I'm happy to hear out their troubles and lend them a shoulder for support. I might not be able to solve their problems, but I want to be a source of strength for them at the least.

Outside my friend group I become a lot more closed off. Instead of goofing off, I'm told I become diligent and considerate of others. I like to make sure school assignments are completed ahead of time so my group can review it and help other groups if they become stuck. Though I usually end up as the group lead, I don't like to lead by force. Instead I prefer to let my team play to their strengths, and I'll make up the weaknesses as we go along. A happy team is a good team after all!

This doesn't mean I'm not without my flaws. I can be really immature at times, and I get depressed if I feel like I'm holding others back or can't perform at the high standard I set for myself. When this happens I usually close myself off from others and listen to music until I feel better. I can get competitive when it comes to things I'm passionate about, but not to the point of lashing out at others.

In terms of hobbies I have a few outside of games. I like reading, cooking for others, listening to music, and cheesy romance novels. I sketch a bit too, but I'm not very good at it, haha. I'm the type to take a lot of interest in my partners hobbies, and I'd probably bug them a bunch about it.

For the ask, I'd like a mix of SFW and NSFW with whomever I'm paired with. Sadly the only fandoms I'm familiar with are Honkai: Star Rail and Genshin Impact. Grinding for those two eats up most of my spare time, so I haven't gotten to try the others. The scenario could be a festival date or comforting one another after a long day of work. But if inspiration strikes you, feel free to write what you please!

I'm a heterosexual dominant, so I suppose I wouldn't want to be paired up with any of the men. (Fine as they may be). Intimacy for me is more about the connection than being extreme with it, and I take pride in providing my partner with pleasure. For my own tastes, I am into breeding, sleepy sex, semi-public sex, oral (giving & receiving), and breast play.

Yukong

╰┈➤ SFW ;

: ̗̀➛ No one would've guessed that you two were in a relationship, especially with how you two act in the workplace. In fact, everyone thought Yukong disliked you due to the high standard she always held you to when that was only because she knew she could count on you.

: ̗̀➛ That said, your relationship wasn't a secret. Yukong wasn't exactly the type to be all clingy and affectionate in public, much less while on the job, so everyone dismissed it as a joke whenever you called her your wife. They just thought you were one of those guys who liked getting treated harshly. Safe to say they were floored when they saw Yukong giving you a kiss on the cheek before heading into the building.

: ̗̀➛ She may have been an ace pilot who could calmly conquer the battlefield in any situation, but she couldn't help but feel nervous introducing you to Qingni. Yukong was extremely relieved that the two of you got along. Though, much to her detriment, you bonded over pulling silly pranks on her when she least expected them.

: ̗̀➛ Domestic life with Yukong couldn't be any better. She's responsible for her share of chores and helps you out whenever she can. Both her and Qingni are also a joy to cook for because you can easily see the way their eyes light up once they take the first bite.

: ̗̀➛ Once a month, without fail, the three of you clear your schedule to have a picnic trip together. Most of the time, you're the one who cooks all of the food while Yukong is the one who sets everything up. Once you're done eating, the three of you often opt to fly kites or catch up with each other. Both activities give Yukong a lot of comfort.

: ̗̀➛ Your relationship with her feels like home. In a future full of uncertainties and doubt, you find respite within each other. You might have disagreements every now and then, but they only make your bond and trust in the other person even stronger.

"Dear, could you pass me the salt, please?"

"Mm. Here you go."

"..."

"..." It's been a little bit longer than an hour since you first got home. You and Yukong didn't fight or anything, but the awkwardness is killing you. It's obvious that both of you have had a tiring day, even more so than usual.

The dining room is filled with soft, yet sharp sounds of tableware, and you're the first to actually try to break this uncomfortable silence. "You know you can talk to me about anything, Yukong." She nods and sighs. "I know, it's just... I've never been good with words."

Annnnnd it's back to that same soundlessness again. Not another word from either of you until you're in bed together. "I apologize for always treating you so harshly at work." She suddenly speaks up, turning to face you.

"It's nothing personal. Besides, I wouldn't want to get special treatment just because I'm your partner. What brought this on?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing in particular. I've just been really stressed with work lately, and I don't wish to cause any for you."

"Not at all. I know you only do that because you trust me." You smile, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead.

"Because you're one of the few I can depend on. You're always doing your best, and I'm proud of you for it."

"Yeah. Thank you, Yukong."

"I just want you to know that you can depend on me too. You don't have to shoulder everything on your own."

"..."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

╰┈➤ NSFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Breeding. Breeding. Breeding. It's quite literally all that's on her mind whenever the two of you make love. You could say that it's because of her genes or heat cycles, but Yukong can't deny that she's always wanted to have little pups to care for.

: ̗̀➛ She doesn't even care if she cums as long as you promise to stuff her full by the end of it. Of course, you'd never be so cruel, but it just goes to show how she'll gladly do anything to get you to breed her thoroughly.

: ̗̀➛ To Yukong, it doesn't matter whether she's on top or bottom. While she'd be grateful if you did most of the work, she's also perfectly willing to put in effort to get what she wants. Whether it be in her career or in bed, it's a whole different feeling of satisfaction to get what you've worked so hard for.

: ̗̀➛ Yukong isn't very vocal in bed, but that doesn't mean she isn't feeling good. It's quite the opposite, actually. You know you've got her good when she's biting her lip, nails digging into whatever part of you she can reach as her cunt clamps down hard on you.

: ̗̀➛ Despite never actually have given birth before, Yukong has the ability to lactate. You don't even have to play with her breasts to get her to— she'll lactate a good bit just from having an orgasm. Playing with her nipples certainly helps, though.

: ̗̀➛ Call her vanilla, but Yukong dislikes using toys in bed. She thinks they're a waste of time and prefers to get straight into the action. She won't mind using them on you if you want her to, but when it comes to herself, she'd much rather you pound her silly instead of wasting your energy on vibrators and the like.

You're in the kitchen, on your way to start making breakfast. You woke up early, and what better use of your time to make Yukong a nice meal? Currently, she's in your shared room, getting some much needed rest.

Or so you thought until you saw her standing by the doorframe wearing nothing but one of your dress shirts. "Good morning, Yukong. What do you think of pancakes for breakfast?" You smile at her, on your way to grab your apron.

You're quickly stopped in your tracks when Yukong suddenly stumbles, almost falling to the ground. "Yukong! Are you alright?" She shakes her head. "My love... I need your help."

You're worried and confused for a moment before you look down to see her thighs sticky with her fluids.

Oh.

You gulp. "I understand. Don't worry, I'll take care of you." Your hands make their way to the buttons of her shirt, and you're able to feel just how hot her body is beneath it. Even more so than during her usual heat cycles.

You leave kisses along her neck, collarbones, and her now exposed chest, but it seems Yukong doesn't want that. Her mind is hazy, and her lust for you only worsens by the second.

She takes your hand, guiding it to her dripping cunt,and you can feel just how much she needs you. Yukong looks at you with dazed eyes, "There's no need for you to be such a gentleman. I'm... really not in the mood for teasing right now."

Bronya

╰┈➤ SFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Bronya loved being the Supreme Guardian. Truly, she did—but loving something doesn't mean she's always happy to do it. She was glad to help her people and take on their burdens, but the dark circles under her eyes spoke for themselves as did her obvious fatigue.

: ̗̀➛ Every day felt like an endless cycle of document after document until you came into her life. Everybody else felt it wasn't their place to try to assist Bronya with her duties, and you were the only one who made an effort to help.

: ̗̀➛ Seeing the cup of coffee on her desk with a small note always gives Bronya the strength she needs to push through the day because she immediately knows who it's from. The coffee is made just how she likes it, at just the right temperature. It's a secret that she won't tell even you, but she keeps all of those post-its you leave in a drawer and looks through them whenever she misses you.

: ̗̀➛ Even with a busy lifestyle, she tries to make as much time for you as she can and comes home into your arms as early as possible. Sure, fancy dates might not always be feasible, but can it really get better than cuddling with each other as you fall asleep?

: ̗̀➛ She doesn't want to reveal your relationship to the public until you're married, but everyone can clearly see that the two of you have something going on. The way she smiles when she's with you is completely different.

: ̗̀➛ Overall, they're just glad that their Supreme Guardian isn't overworking herself as much. Everyone tells her to rest, but you're the only one that she isn't as stubborn with.

Cocolia Rand, her mother. Cocolia Rand, the Supreme Guardian.

Since when did the line start to blur? Perhaps such a "line" did not exist in the first place. Perhaps she deliberately chose to ignore the undeniable signs of impending catastrophe. And yet, what did that lead to?

It's already been a year, but her nightmares repeat like clockwork all the same. Just when she thinks she's come to accept what happened, memories much too vivid come back to haunt her.

Bronya jolts awake in a cold sweat. She tries to draw breath, but air fails to enter her lungs. It feels as if they've closed themselves; as if this were punishment for her ignorance.

"Bronya... Bronya!" You call out to her. Seeing you has eased the aching in her heart ever so slightly, and finally, she can breathe.

Bronya hadn't shed a single tear since that day; she vowed to herself and to her mother that she wouldn't. Yet, without realizing it, a stream of them makes their way down her cheeks.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten into me so suddenly..." Bronya sniffles, wiping her tears. You pull her into a tight hug, and she gladly takes the opportunity to hide her face in your neck. She doesn't want you to see her like this.

"It's okay. It'll all be alright. I'm here for you."

Just like that, something inside of Bronya shatters. All of the anger and sadness she's felt for so long, all at once. She bursts into tears and sobs into your shirt. "You've been so brave, haven't you?"

Almost an hour passes as you comfort her, and she finally starts to calm down. She pulls away, looking up at you with puffy, tear-stained eyes. "There's nothing left. I've lost everything." You muster up the warmest smile you can manage and bring a hand up to caress her cheek. "You're wrong, Bronya. There is still something left." "A chance to take everything back."

╰┈➤ NSFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Bronya is the most submissive person to walk this universe EVER. The human embodiment of the phrase "you tell me to jump, I ask how high." She'll do whatever you want as soon as you say the word because making you feel good makes her feel good.

: ̗̀➛ Considering the type of person you are, sex with Bronya is almost like a competition of pleasuring the other person more. She's very good at turning you on, but she's way too tired to do much most of the time. Bronya still tries, of course, but you always end up winning this little "competition" of yours.

: ̗̀➛ She's such a big baby in a way that just makes you want to spoil her rotten. Holding hands, hugging, kissing, you name it— she'll cling onto you every chance she gets. The sweet thing just has to touch you, and you could never bring yourself to deny her.

: ̗̀➛ Her moans are so pretty, too! They're drawn-out and breathy, growing louder as she nears her orgasm. She tries not to be too loud, but it just feels too good sometimes. One side of you wants to make her scream your name loud enough for everyone else to hear, while the other wants to keep her cute sounds all to yourself.

: ̗̀➛ Scratches a lot, but the marks aren't too deep thanks to her nails always being perfectly filed. She doesn't leave hickeys (much) as she's more of the type to leave soft, quick kisses wherever she can reach. Bronya can't help feeling guilty seeing the red lines she made on your back, though. There are many other ways she can mark you as hers, after all. She doesn't want to hurt you.

"My love..." Bronya sighs dreamily, feeling your hands trail up her body. Your warmth provided her comfort to get through the night, and truly, that was the only thing she sought from you before all of this began.

A kiss. That was all it took for lust to plant itself in your hearts.

She tilted her head, and you gladly took the chance to leave soft kisses along her neck. Your fingers traced her body; down to her her hips, back up to her breasts, and finally, they found themselves playing with her nipples.

"Mmh..." Bronya groaned, leaning into your touch. You hum in response, rolling the buds on your fingers. "Beautiful girl." A soft, yet sudden pinch makes her gasp and arch her back. "Love you so much..."

Your warmth was no longer enough. Bronya wanted more; wanted you. You made her feel like the greediest woman in Belobog, and for some reason, she loved it. "Please, I want you."

Halting your movements, you gently flip her over so that you're on top of her. You take the hand covering her mouth and kiss the inside of her wrist. "Then, you will have me. I'm all yours."

Is lust just another fragment of love or an impurity that taints it? Is Bronya your adored muse, or your most beloved sin?

Eula

╰┈➤ SFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Honestly, the two of you didn't quite get along at first. She wasn't outright uncooperative when the two of you went on missions, but you could feel how strangely distant she was being for seemingly no reason. You only broke the ice once you invited her to a drink to celebrate finishing a particularly difficult mission together.

: ̗̀➛ She's never had someone willingly accompany her, much less invite her to a bar, so she ended up talking your ear off as she vented her frustrations about the discrimination she faced just for her last name. While her family has done some messed up stuff, that isn't necessarily her fault. She's just a normal girl.

: ̗̀➛ No one could've expected it, but the first thing you discovered you had in common with the infamous Spindrift Knight was your love for cheesy romance novels. How you found out? You were both drunk. You started reciting the cringiest dialogue you could remember from them, and Eula continued the lines after you.

: ̗̀➛ Even though you first got to really know her while drinking with her, Eula only really shows her true self once she's alone with you. She's the gentlest, kindest, most compassionate woman you've ever met. You wonder if the rest of Mondstadt were blind to not see Eula beyond her being a Lawrence, but really, she's only this vulnerable when she's with you.

: ̗̀➛ Marriage in particular is one of her biggest fantasies. There's just something really romantic to her about being so... deeply connected to each other. Eula always thought it'd be impossible for someone like her, yet, here you are. You accept her and all her flaws with open arms. She's so used to blazing flames to the point that your gentle warmth feels so alien. It's not a feeling she's used to, but that doesn't mean that she won't cherish it.

: ̗̀➛ Speaking of marriage, Eula would prefer to take your last name. She's not running away from her family's actions; much less is she trying to clear their name. Eula knows that what they've done is unforgivable. A name is what makes up a good part of your identity. It's what people will remember you as and it's who you are to them. Bearing your last name makes her feel like she's taking a part of you with her wherever she goes no matter how much time passes, and that gives her indescribable comfort.

Eula never liked the Windblume festival. No, Eula hated the Windblume festival.

Why wouldn't she? Everything was so noisy. Even during the day, taverns were filled with drunks merrily getting wasted. There were fewer commissioners, which left more work for her to do.

It didn't help that the Windblume Festival also symbolized the downfall of the Lawrence clan.

Festivity filled Mondstadt's winds, and any form of participation from her earned nothing but more scorn from the townspeople she works so hard to protect.

Although Eula had you this time around, she didn't want to keep you from enjoying the festival just because she couldn't participate.

Alas, she forgot to consider one thing: It's you who knows her best. You know that she wants to celebrate just like everybody else. So if she can't go to the festival, why not bring the festival to her instead?

Maybe you can't exactly replicate the festive atmosphere and the little games, but that wasn't going to stop you. The essence of the Windblume Festival doesn't lie in high-quality wine and fancy ceremonies, but in showing your loved ones that you care.

Eula had her suspicions when you suddenly took her on a date saying you "knew a spot," but she didn't expect to see a secluded place in the forest filled to the brim with dandelions.

"So? What do you think?" You smile at her, pride filling you once you see how awestruck she is. It's not often she's so surprised. "It's... beautiful." Eula replies. The softness of her voice as she says this is one she shows only to you.

After a moment passes, you take a deep breath. "You're everything to me," you pick a dandelion, presenting it to her with a confident smile on your face. "more precious than the very air I breathe..."

It's her favorite line from her favorite novel. To other people, it might not make sense, but she remembers it vividly and she's glad that you do, too. She can't help but chuckle as she takes the flower from your hand.

"Or the chocolates I love." She continues. Honestly, it sounds more cheesy rather than romantic in real life, but she can't stop herself from smiling like an idiot. After all, she always viewed those books as nothing more than a mere fantasy.

"You'll always be my treasure."

╰┈➤ NSFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Great would be an understatement to describe your sex life with Eula. She's flexible, has seemingly endless stamina, and her hips work wonders. Not to mention she has the most attractive body you've seen and an even more attractive face to go along with it.

: ̗̀➛ Eula is neither dominant nor submissive. She does things her own way, based on whatever she feels like doing at a given moment. If Eula wants to ride you, she'll ride you. If she wants to give you head, she'll give you head and vice versa. Eula is just focused on making the both of you feel good.

: ̗̀➛ She's fine with mostly anything as long as she can see your face during sex. If not that, then at least to feel your hands somewhere on her. Eula might not look like the type, but she's inexperienced with all of this and she just needs to see that you're the one making her feel so good.

: ̗̀➛ Eula denies it, but she loves the risk of semi-public sex. It gets her heartbeat rising and adrenaline pumping. Everything about it from having to keep quiet to the chance of being caught in such an explicit act turns her on.

: ̗̀➛ She's surprisingly shy in bed though, especially during your first time. She becomes all cute and focused, trying her best not to mess anything up. Eula becomes more daring and bold as time passes, but hearing reassurance and praise from you is always appreciated.

: ̗̀➛ Riding you is her favorite thing to do. The position you're in gives both of you just the right amount of control. She doesn't have to move much for it to feel good either, just feeling your cock grind against her walls has her biting her moans back.

"I understand that I'm attractive, but do you always have to be so... easily roused?" Eula looks up at you, a shade of pink spotting her cheeks and eyes full of annoyance.

Okay, maybe this was partly her fault since she's been putting herself in provocative positions in front of you, but she only expected a bit of fun once you got home.

She certainly wasn't expecting to suck you off in a random alleyway where you could easily be caught.

"Eula, you really don't have to..." You sigh. Admittedly, this whole situation was really turning you on, but you didn't want to force her into doing anything she didn't want to do nonetheless.

"You really think I'd let you walk home with such an obvious boner?" She glares. She did have a point— ignoring it would just bring both of you embarrassment. "Just... make sure to finish quickly. This place reeks..."

Nimble hands work to quickly undo your pants and free your aching cock. Eula would much rather take her time in the comforts of your home, but the situation just doesn't allow for that.

Not even a second later, you can feel her lips wrapped around the tip, working its way down your length eagerly. Every inch that isn't in her mouth is being carefully handled by her hands.

It takes all of your strength to keep quiet as she moves her tongue exactly how you like it. "Fuck... Eula..." You groan. When you start softly tugging at her hair and bucking your hips, she knows you're near your orgasm.

What really brought you over the edge was the sight of Eula grinding on her own hand as she sucked you off. Warm cum fills her mouth, and she swallows all of it. "Geez, you're gonna make a mess..." She complains.

Seeing the wet patch on her shorts, you know that you'll have to finish what you started.

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